Home
by AngelofDarkness1605
Summary: Three days after he sent her away, Belle returns to the Dark Castle to confront Rumplestiltskin with their feelings for each other.
1. Part 1

_My first OUAT fic! Enjoy._

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**Home**

Part 1

It's not the whispers of her ruined virtue which make Belle decide to return to the Dark Castle instead of completing the journey to her father's lands. Neither is it the knowledge that her childhood home isn't where she truly belongs any longer.

Although it certainly plays a large part in her decision, ultimately it's not the final memory of Rumplestiltskin either which persuades her to go back to him, his face betraying a truth his words denied.

More than anything, it's the indisputable fact that it wasn't only his happiness that was destroyed when he send her away. Whether Belle likes it or not, Rumplestiltskin wasn't the only one whose love was confirmed when their kiss prompted his transformation back to the man he once must have been.

So that's why the former caretaker makes her way back to the Dark Castle. Belle doesn't know what she will say to him when she returns and she especially has no idea what he will do once he sees her again after his cruel dismissal.

All she knows is that she can't leave him, or at least not the way she did three days ago. Too much things have gone left unsaid, too many feelings left unspoken. She herself isn't certain of many of them, her love for Rumplestiltskin as undefinable as it is unexpected, but they can't be ignored.

Belle hesitates only briefly when she walks through the castle's imposing gate, which curiously allows her unhindered access. She forbids herself to linger when she reaches the front door, the heavy wood moving outwards at the barest touch. She no longer questions herself when she heads for the main hall, determined to find the man who claimed that his power means more to him than their love.

It's quiet in the castle, more silent than any time in the months she spent there. Although far from a noisy place, there are always sounds of some sorts. A crackling fire, his light footsteps on the stone floor, a whistling kettle, the buzzing of his mysterious potions in their vials...

Not a single sound can be heard now beyond those caused by her own movements. It can't possibly mean anything good, but Belle doesn't allow herself to consider that.

It doesn't take long for her to find him. She expected him to be in his turret, working on his spells and potions, or in the library perhaps to discover yet more secrets in the invaluable books it holds. Instead, she finds him in the very room where she intuitively started looking for him, having spent most of her time with him there.

Belle stops dead in her tracks when she spots him. Throughout the past few days she imagined a variety of ways in which the beginning of their reunion might turn out, but this most certainly wasn't one of them.

The man who claimed not to want her, not to _love_ her, is sitting uncomfortably on the floor of the large room, his shoulders heaving and his head lowered. His face is buried in the now crumpled dress she wore at the day she arrived at his castle.

Belle gasps at his undeniable display of desperate longing, her heart aching for the man who is so utterly lost that he couldn't be honest with her at the most important of moments.

She isn't going to let him get away with it this time.

Belle takes a careful step towards him, wanting to comfort him but afraid that she'll startle him. Rumplestiltskin is not a man to be approached unobserved without consequence and she dreads to think of what he might do if she shocks him now.

That's why she almost jumps when her foot lands on something that noisily breaks beneath her shoe. Her eyes fixed on him until she is certain that he hasn't heard her, it takes her a long moment to understand what has happened.

Only then actually looking around the room, she notices that she has stepped onto a piece of broken glass. She doesn't have to wonder long how it ended up on the floor in the middle of the hall.

Her mouth falls open when her gaze falls on the remains of the cabinet. Both the glass of the double doors and the treasures inside are smashed to pieces, far beyond recognition. There is no question who destroyed the cabinet, but she dare not speculate on Rumplestiltskin's reasons for doing so.

Assessing the room for further damage, she spots yet more shards on the floor. They once formed the tea set which she used for both of them many a day. She dreads to think what must have happened for them to deserve such a fate.

Yet, nothing is more puzzling, more confronting, than the single cup which remains on the table, fully intact but its chipped edge. It's almost like he has spared that one on purpose, as if he expects - _hopes_ - that she will return at any moment to pour him another cup.

Belle continues her approach with a lump in her throat, her heart pounding in anxiety. Rumplestiltskin doesn't look up, too lost in whatever he is experiencing to notice her presence.

When she is right in front of him, he still doesn't see her. Belle regards him in silence, wondering what to do next. It's difficult to think at all when seeing him like this, basically nuzzling the fabric she once wore.

She wasn't sure of it before, but she can definitely tell now that he is crying. Still, he doesn't make the slightest sound, looking like he's trying to hide his sadness despite being presumably all alone in his castle. His shoulders shaking quietly, he looks like a man who learned to hide his fears and sorrows a very long time ago.

Sensing that Rumplestiltskin won't become aware of her for quite some time unless she makes her presence known to him, Belle kneels down in front of him. She wants him to feel as little threatened as possible before confronting him in this state.

Making sure not to touch him despite wanting nothing more at that moment than taking him in her arms, Belle nervously clears her throat.

"Rumplestiltskin," she says, quietly, her voice quivering.

He goes completely still as she addresses him, but remains sitting as he is, his head bowed as if he doesn't believe that he's actually hearing her voice.

"Rumplestiltskin," she tries again, a bit louder and more certain.

This time, he lowers the damp material of the dress and finally looks up at her.

The expression on his face is like a physical blow. There is so much pain there, such loneliness and love and utter despair that she doesn't know how he can bear it.

She can _see_ him in that one second of bare, raw emotion, allowing her to understand him more than she did before. His indifference regarding her is as much an act as his gleeful, impish persona when he makes his deals. Beneath the grand gestures and child-like voice he is simply a man... an ordinary and very, very lonely man.

"Belle?"

His eyes are wide in disbelief, his voice so hoarse that her name is hardly audible, tears dropping from his lashes down his cheeks.

"It's me," she whispers, "I've come back."

She's stating the obvious, but he still looks like he can't believe it. It's as if he has imagined something like this happening for dozens of times, only to be confronted with the harsh reality of her absence every single time.

"You've come... home?"

Tears pool in her own eyes at the tremble in his voice and at the choice of his last word. She isn't entirely certain what he means by it, whether he wants the Dark Castle to be her home instead of her prison or whether he considers this his own home only when she is there, but at that moment it doesn't really matter.

She nods, not trusting her voice to function and not wanting there to be any more doubt between them.

He reaches for her, his hand lingering right in front of her, as if he doesn't quite dare touch her. He might be afraid that she'll disappear after all at the moment he touches her, as if she is nothing but another illusion, or perhaps he fears that his touch disgusts her.

Not wanting him to think anything of such sorts, she reaches for his hand, her fingers moving experimentally against his. For all the time they spent together, they have barely shared any sort of physical contact to express their love.

Except for a daring hand on his thigh right before the briefest and chastest of kisses, after that one time she accidentally fell into his arms, the distance between them has grown along with their fondness for one another, their fingers not even brushing when he handed her the rose.

But that's coming to an end when he brings his other hand to hers, cradling it with a carefulness and tenderness she didn't expect from him, not even after getting to know him like she did in the past few months.

"You're real," he breathes, looking as if a very heavy weight has been taken off his shoulders.

She opens her mouth to confirm that she is truly here, impossibly tight throat or not, but she doesn't get the chance.

He _lurches_ for her, hauling her against his chest and knocking both of them over in his eagerness. She is on her back on the floor a second later, with Rumplestiltskin on top of her, knocking the air out of her lungs. His desperate embrace borders on painful, but Belle only welcomes his nearness.

"I've missed you," he whispers urgently in her ear, "I've missed you _so much_."

"I've missed you too," she says, only realizing when she is in his accepting arms just how much this is true. She didn't want to be separated from him, didn't want to live without his unexpected tenderness and respect, his quips and gentle kisses, but only now that she is in his arms she fully understands just how much her longing for him goes beyond that.

"I'm so sorry, Belle. _So sorry_. I shouldn't have sent you away. I shouldn't have been cruel to you, I shouldn't have..."

The usually so very eloquent man stumbles over his own words in his haste to apologize, frantic in his attempt to reassure her. But she doesn't need words to be convinced of his regret. What she wants right now doesn't require words altogether.

"Let's talk about that later, all right?" she asks, hushing him. "Let's just stay like this for a while."

Much as she knows that they have to talk about these things, right now she would simply like to enjoy this whole new kind of being together, allowing both of them to get somewhat used to being reunited for at least the time being.

"I'd like that. Very much."

He makes a noise of relief as he buries his face against her throat, only slightly loosening his tight grip on her. Belle sighs when the remains of his tears end up on her skin and he releases a long, tormented breath in response. No matter how impossible something like this was until only a few moments ago, nothing has felt more natural, more _right_, than being in his arms like this.

She has never been in such a situation before, especially not with Rumplestiltskin himself, and she isn't sure what to do. But as they lie together quietly, her hands resting lightly on his back, she supposes that there is no need to do anything, that just being together like this is enough.

Too soon, he withdraws, his expression one of guilt. Leaning on both his arms, he looks down at her, his gaze betraying both doubt and longing.

"You aren't comfortable," Rumplestiltskin says, more a statement than a question.

"The floor is a bit hard, I suppose," she truthfully says, not sure whether she should add that she doesn't care about that now that he is in his arms, with his thighs on either side of hers.

"I wasn't talking about that," he replies, scrambling to his feet and offering her a hand to do the same.

"Oh," she says, only then realizing that he was referring to their previous physical nearness. "In that case, I _was_ comfortable."

"You don't have to say that," he says, dropping her hand as soon as she's standing on her feet again. "I know that I... am what I am."

She supposes that it's an improvement that he doesn't use the word 'monster' to describe himself, but this is only a slight improvement. There is so much hatred and disgust for himself; it appears to go far beyond his highly unusual looks and often harsh personality.

"I know what you are... and I would like to truly know _who_ you are," she says, hoping to persuade him of at least this for now. "I wouldn't be here if I wouldn't. I wouldn't have come back if I wouldn't want this."

He watches her intently, but this time he looks at _her_ instead of any scheme she might be plotting.

"You truly are a remarkable creature."

"You'd better get used to it," she replies, her words stern and promising despite the smile on her lips. "If you would have me, I mean."

She swallows with difficulty as it dawns on her what she just said, what her words imply.

"Is there any doubt?"

He shakes his head, as if he can't believe that she questions his wish for her to stay with him.

"You were the one to send me away."

She doesn't really wish to remind him of it while he is like this, vulnerable and open, but it needs to be said sooner or later. Besides, she might never get the opportunity again to see him like this.

"I thought it was the only way," he whispers, avoiding her gaze and flinching slightly at her words. "That it would be best, both for you and for me."

"And now?" she asks, knowing him well enough by now to be able to tell that he has changed his mind.

"Now I know that it would be best for me if you were to stay."

"And what about me?"

He shakes his head, as if not wanting to consider the question, not again. But Belle has to know, has to _understand_.

"Why didn't you come after me?" she prompts as insistently yet gently as she can. "Why didn't you ask me to come back here?"

There is no denying that she always hoped that he would do so, even before she made the decision to go back herself.

"Don't you think I haven't considered it? I've thought of nothing but doing just that. I truly believed that this would be better for both of us. I don't want to live without you, but I couldn't imagine you truly wanting to be here."

"But why not?

"How can you possibly be happy here, with _me_?"

He doesn't continue, but the look in his eyes tells her that he is begging her to tell him otherwise, to persuade him that she genuinely wants to stay.

"Because I enjoy being here. If I would have been home, 'free' as you might call it, I would have had to spent the rest of my life with Gaston. I wouldn't have been able to read or _talk_. He wouldn't allow me to jest with him, whereas you appear to enjoy it. Gaston wouldn't have listened to me and would have put me away in _his_ castle, just as far away from my father as here, only without books or anyone to really talk to. He would have spent each night in my bed, whether I'd like it or not, and he would have taken our children to be raised by servants the way he saw fit. He... he wouldn't have _loved_ me."

As often as she thought along the exact same lines, she is convinced of the full truth of her words only now that she says them out loud for the first time and the realization dawns in her True Love's eyes.

"I don't want to leave, Rumplestiltskin. I... I don't want to be without you."

His throat visibly works as she talks, his hands trembling at his side.

"I might never understand how you can want this, how you can want to be with _me_, but..."

It's far from a declaration of love, provides insight into only a small part of his feelings, but for now it's more than enough for her. Belle releases a breath she didn't know she was holding, a broad smile finding its way to her lips. He _believes_, and that's all what matters right now.

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_To be continued soon._


	2. Part 2

Part 2

Rumplestiltskin's implicit admission of his feelings for her is followed by a lengthy silence, the significance of his grave words slowly dawning on both of them.

Much as Belle hoped against all odds that he would be this honest with her, she doesn't quite know what to say now, how to react to his uneasily albeit sincerely expressed desire for her to stay with him.

He surprises her yet again by taking a deep breath and continuing to talk, all but forcing the words out of his mouth in his rare attempt to tell exactly what he is thinking.

"From now on, my home is as much yours as it is mine. You won't find any locked doors here anymore. You... you are free to leave whenever you want. All I ask of you is to consider returning when you decide to go."

She can only smile in response, displaying her happiness more fully that way than any words ever could. He returns her expression with a slight quirk of the corners of his lips, the closest she's ever seen him to an actual smile.

"Belle, you must know that I... I'm sorry for the way I treated you. I truly am. You gave me something beautiful, something I thought I could never have. And I ruined it, I _hurt_ you, just because I didn't believe you could truly want to be with me... that you can _love _me."

The words are strange on his lips, simply because he has never spoken to her like this before, but his apology is an honest one. He clearly hasn't offered his excuses to anyone in a very long time and she can tell how difficult it is for him to admit his own wrongs to her, let alone in such a direct manner.

"I accept your apology," she says quietly, relieved that he isn't only aware of the impact of his actions, but has also expressed his regret. "I would like to make one myself."

"Whatever for?" he asks, looking at her with confusion, as if he can't imagine her doing anything that ought to be justified.

"For kissing you the way I did. I _wanted_ to, but I also did it to break your curse. I shouldn't have presumed... I wanted you to be free of the curse, but it wasn't my decision to make."

"Belle, I..."

Rumplestiltskin struggles for words and it's almost painful to see him like this, all of his usual eloquence gone now that he tries to talk about something that truly matters to him.

"The only thing you were wrong about was presuming that I want the curse broken. I _do_, one day, but until then I need the power... it's the only way to find my son."

Her eyes widen in surprise at the revelation that his son is apparently still alive somewhere - and that his dark powers will help him find his way back to him.

"So that's why you were so upset," she mutters, more to herself than to him. "You don't only want the power for the sake of it."

"Those powers mean a lot to me," he says, shifting awkwardly on his feet, lowering his gaze again. "My boy... he found a way for me to be free of it. I didn't take that chance and I regret it every day. I broke my promise and I lost him. But my magic... it means a lot to me. I've had it for so long that I can't imagine being without it, being _weak_ again."

He shivers a little as he speaks, which doesn't escape her notice. Just like the mention of his son, Belle memorizes this new insight into him, her interest in his life before he became the Dark One more piqued than ever before.

"But if I get my son back, if I've got you... that's what I truly want. I can hardly imagine being an ordinary man again, but with the two of you... I would try."

Her mind is reeling, his words placing everything he has said and done in a whole new light. She needs time to consider all this, time to _think_, but she can already tell that many things about him will make a lot more sense from now on.

"That's not all of it," he says hurriedly, an edge to his voice. It's as if he wants to tell her as much as he can now that he has finally found the courage to open up to her. "I don't want you to apologize for that kiss. I knew what could happen, but I let you do it anyway."

"Because you didn't believe that I love you and thought that I couldn't break the curse?"

"I didn't believe it, not truly. But even if I would have done... I wanted you to kiss me. I wanted _you. _I knew that I could never have a chance with you, but after you said that you believe love to be layered..."

His expression is one of misery, as if he expects to enrage her by telling her this, by admitting some of the extent of his feelings for her. Belle is stunned at this new revelation, not expecting at all that the usually awkward and tight-lipped Rumplestiltskin she had slowly gotten to know would admit to her that he has been in love with her for far longer than she could have imagined.

"It was a moment of weakness, I suppose," he continues, focusing his gaze back firmly on the stone tiles at her feet. "I knew what could happen... but I wasn't thinking about that then. Belle, you are so lovely, and you were so close... no matter what would have happened, I wanted to be kissed by you."

The look on his face and the sound of his voice sends a tremble through her, his desire for her never having been clearer.

"That one moment of happiness... it was worth to me so much. But then you mentioned the curse and I realized that you _knew, _that you'd done it on purpose..."

He shakes his head, his disappointment still very much there. He looks at her, helpless, the pain of her apparent betrayal still hurting him so much that he can't continue talking.

"You thought I had only done it to take your powers," Belle says for him, her own voice weak because she understands now why things went so very wrong after their first kiss... but only after she mentioned the curse.

He nods slightly, confirming her words.

"I shouldn't have doubted you. I only allowed myself to believe that you hadn't lied when it was too late."

"Rumplestiltskin..."

She can think of only one way to comfort him, one way to make clear to him that she has forgiven him now that she knows why he got so very upset and threw her out. But when she steps towards him, he tenses visibly and wraps his arms around his chest, as if both to protect himself and to keep her away.

"I won't try to break the curse again," she promises, "at least, not without your permission."

"Then what do you want?"

There is no hostility in his voice, only confusion and curiosity. Belle's heart aches at seeing him like this, still incapable of fully believing that she loves him and doesn't mean him any harm.

"Will you hold me?" she asks, in a second attempt to initiate a physical nearness that will hopefully soothe him.

"_Yes_," he breathes, all but tripping over his own feet in his haste to get close to her after all. She is back in his arms a moment later, considerably more comfortable than last time now that he makes sure that the two of them remain standing. More importantly, it's easier to appreciate his nearness, to _enjoy _it, now that he has explained at least some of his motives to her.

Belle closes her eyes when her face is pressed lightly against his chest, the silk of his shirt delightfully soft against her cheek. She finds herself thinking that it would be yet better if the shirt wouldn't be there at all, but that's something to consider at another point.

Rumplestiltskin sighs deeply in appreciation, his hands resting gently on her waist. Never she could have imagined that the embrace between a man and a woman could be like this, gentle and pleasant and _perfect_.

Her hands are stiffly at her side. She'd like to return the embrace, but she is almost just as uncertain as how to actually do such things properly as Rumplestiltskin is himself. Belle settles for simply doing what feels right by moving her arms around his waist and placing her hands on his back.

Rumplestiltskin tenses once more at her increased touch. She withdraws her hands in response, but the noise of disappointment which he makes dissuades her.

"That was... pleasant," he says. "I didn't mean for you to stop, if you don't want to. You just surprised me... again. In a good way."

"I don't really know what I'm doing," she mutters, his unease matched by her own. Belle's cheeks color when he doesn't object to her touch. It's not that she's embarrassed about touching Rumplestiltskin like this... it's the discovery that she likes it very, very much. The outline of his body is right beneath her hands, the thin silk not preventing her from feeling the skin and muscles beneath.

"Neither do I," he replies, sighing his delight into her hair when she experimentally rubs her hands a little along his back.

The apparent fact that this is just as new to him as it is to her is yet another surprise. She briefly wonders about the wife he mentioned, whether their relationship took place so long ago that he simply doesn't remember what it was like to be with her, or that he and his wife never shared anything like this.

But Belle doesn't want to think of Rumplestiltskin in the arms of another woman right now. She dismisses the question, at least not for the time being. If the way he whispers her name is any indication, she is currently the only one on his mind as well.

Encouraged by his reaction, she increases the pressure a little, rubbing her hands more firmly against his back. The quiet, longing noise he makes in response takes her breath away. Rumplestiltskin may rarely reveal the truth with words, but his body is as honest as anything can be.

His hands are moving now too, caressing her back in much the same way as she is exploring his.

"Is this all right?" he asks, sounding so uncertain at the wonderful touch that she isn't sure whether to be sad or bemused.

"Yes. It's... it's lovely. I... I'd like you to go on."

Expressing herself so freely on such matters isn't something she ever imagined doing, but she senses that blunt and possibly inappropriate - in the eyes of the people with whom she grew up, at least - answers are the only way for them to attempt to let one another know what they are actually experiencing.

His hand falter momentarily as if in disbelief, but then he continues his movements with renewed enthusiasm. Stroking his hands from her neck to her lower back and back up, again and again, Belle shuts her eyes more tightly and doesn't repress any of the quiet sounds of appreciation which turn out to roll easily off her lips.

Almost delirious with his nearness, she moves herself more firmly against him, pressing her face more tightly against his chest. One adventures hand finds its way to his hair, caressing it lightly as she savors his groan of approval.

He nuzzles her neck, quickening her pulse as his nose and lips brush against her suddenly sensitive skin. He must like touching her like that, for he rests his head on her shoulder, guided by her hand in his hair to enable him better access.

They remain standing like that for a long while, slowly getting used to this whole new way of being together now that they are closer to one another than they have ever been, in every sense of the word.

Rumplestiltskin holds on to her like he expects her to disappear into thin air at any moment, which reminds her of the way she found him clinging to her dress just a short while ago.

"What were you doing with my dress?" she asks almost thoughtlessly, unable to get that particular image out of her head and not sure what exactly the purpose was of burying his face in it like he did.

He clears his throat, not at ease with either the question or the answer. She doesn't need to look at him to be aware of the color rising to his cheeks.

"It smells of you," he admits, just before she has the chance to say that she doesn't require an answer if it makes him so uncomfortable. "I enchanted it to keep your scent forever. If I fooled myself like that long enough, it was sometimes almost like you were still there."

The lump in her throat returns as it fully begins to dawn on her just how much he has missed her.

"What about the cabinet and the tea set?"

"When I thought you had tried to trick me, when I thought I had lost you, I was... upset."

He gently breaks away from her, leaving her bereft, but it turns out that he doesn't move away from her entirely.

"I am a difficult man," he says, regretful. "For you, I'll do the best I can, but..."

"Don't talk like that," she replies, hushing him. "I won't pretend to know you, truly know you... not yet, at least. I know that you have done bad things and I don't doubt that there are many more things that you have done that I don't know of."

His expression of guilt and shame tells her that she is right. Rumplestiltskin bows his head, as if being able to make at least some of those things undone that way, but she isn't finished yet.

"But there's also good in you. You've treated me better than many other masters would have done. Even when you thought I had betrayed you... you didn't hurt me, not truly. You threw me out and you shouldn't have, at least not without listening to me first, but... I think you can be a better man if only you could believe that someone can love you."

His eyes are moist again and he swallows with difficulty as he regards her, drinking in her every syllable.

"I want to believe that," he gasps, reaching for her again. "I want to be able to believe that you truly... care for me."

"I do," she breathes, taking his hands in his own and stepping closer to him. "And I'll show you, if you give me the chance."

He nods vigorously at her words, pulling her against his chest with careful hands once more. He holds her like he is still afraid that she'll bolt at any moment, but Belle is more than happy to be in his arms like this.

"I'll do anything in my power to give us that chance. Just... try to be patient with an old man who is trying to change his ways after a very long time."

"I will," she promises, knowing what he is asking of her - and that it indeed won't be easy for either of them to find a way to make a relationship between them work. But she is hopeful, not in the least because he still refrains from referring to himself as a monster, something that seemed so very difficult to achieve just a few days ago.

He smiles at her, a real, honest smile, and his expression brings hope to her heart. Indeed, the fact that they are here now, together, is already a huge improvement compared to anything that seemed possible in the past.

She steps back slightly from him, not missing his badly concealed disappointment when she does so. But she remains smiling at him, reassuring him, while she reaches for his face.

Ever so careful, still finding it somewhat difficult to believe that she can actually do this now, she caresses his cheek, finding his discolored skin softer than it looks like. Rumplestiltskin trembles at her touch, tilting his head to lean into her hand, and Belle shivers pleasantly at the sight.

"I love you, Rumplestiltskin," she breathes, the words she dared not say out loud for too long coming easily now that things between them have changed so much for the better.

He goes completely still, her words clearly taken him off guard. For just a second she wonders whether she shouldn't have spoken, but the way something inside of her flutters at his shocked yet delighted expression tells her that she couldn't have chosen a better moment to confirm her feelings for him.

Her love for him can't be new to him, if only because it almost broke his curse. But judging from the unconcealed joy that is written on his face, it might as well be. It reminds her to say those three words very, very often to him in the future.

"And I love you, Belle," he says, smiling with still lingering disbelief and growing hope. It reminds her that no matter how wonderful it is to express her love for him, it's so much better when the confirmation is returned.

* * *

_To be continued soon._


	3. Part 3

Part 3

Rumplestiltskin reaches for her face after their mutual declaration of love. Belle's fingers still caressing his cheek, he moves carefully and a little uncertainly to mimic her gestures. But he withdraws before he actually touches her, looking away from her with guilt in his eyes.

Aware of his returned self-loathing, Belle's heart aches for him as he implicitly shows her once more just how little he thinks he deserves, that he is convinced that she wouldn't welcome his touch.

"It's all right," she says, hoping to encourage him. She takes his hand between her own and guides it back to her face, watching his eyes grow wide as the tips of his slightly calloused fingers brush against her skin. It's her turn to sigh happily and lean into his hand as he touches her with more tenderness than she expected from any man.

Wanting to be as close to him as she can without actually kissing him, Belle tentatively moves forward, closing the last distance between them. Keeping her movements slow and smooth, not wanting to startle him, she rests her forehead against his. Rumplestiltskin immediately bends his head slightly, accommodating her approach and making both of them more comfortable.

He is lightly caressing her cheek on his own accord and she takes the opportunity to lock her hands behind his neck, keeping him close to her and exploring the skin at his nape at the same time. He turns out to be yet more sensitive than she presumed and both of them smile in wonder at the sounds of delight she draws from him.

Belle closes her eyes, completely at ease with being with Rumplestiltskin like this. More than that, she is happy in a way she never imagined she would be, loved by the man to whom she has lost her heart. He might be the complete opposite of anything she imagined for herself when growing up, but there is nothing and no one she would rather have than Rumplestiltskin.

"Love you," he breathes, his voice so soft that she can barely hear him, and neither for the first or for the last time she is taken aback by the depth of his feelings for her. She'll probably never get really used to the knowledge that the most powerful and most feared creature of all the lands can also be the by far gentlest and most loving man she has ever known.

"Love you too," she whispers back, more than happy to say the words again, to share them like the air between them.

Their closeness reminds her of the tender kiss they shared just a few days ago. Belle wishes that she had been more attentive at that time, that she hadn't mostly focused on breaking his curse. The memory of slightly hesitant, perfectly gentle lips against her own is too vague for her liking. It's not as if she can just kiss him again, reviving the experience and not ruining its aftermath this time.

"Does the curse break whenever we would kiss?" she asks, her desire to feels his mouth against hers again driving her to learn more of the effects of True Love's kiss - and their limitations.

"Yes," Rumplestiltskin says, his frustration obvious.

"Does the curse only break when I kiss your lips?"

He goes still again, his hands halting abruptly at the side of her face.

"I... I don't know," he replies, breathless as he withdraws slightly to look her in the eyes. "Nothing happens if we just touch, so I suppose that..."

He swallows with visible difficulty, his expression turning hopeful, calculating in a way it never was before.

"Because I was wondering, if I were to kiss your cheek..."

She doesn't need to complete her sentence for him to understand her and Belle is grateful for it, finding it difficult to voice her thoughts. It's not just that she has always been taught that she can't discuss these things, let alone so openly, but it's mostly her own desire to actually experience such things which leaves her struggling to find words.

Clearly Rumplestiltskin is thinking along the same lines as she is. His eyes are widen as he takes her in with a stare which is almost tangible in its intensity. Belle licks her lip unconsciously, only aware that she is doing so when his gaze flickers downwards and a soft groan escapes him.

Kissing him on the cheek is not what she'd prefer to do at that very moment, but it's definitely the next best thing. So she moves towards him, closer than she has ever been before, until her lips are right before his unusually colored skin, her breath brushing against him. Rumplestiltskin trembles at their nearness, and so does she.

"Do you want me to stop?"

No matter how much she longs to move her lips against his cheek, achieving at least this type of intimacy, she'd rather never touch him again than accidentally doing something once more that they'll regret immediately afterwards.

"Please don't stop." Something deep inside of her flutters deliciously at the rough sound of his voice.

Having all the permission she needs, Belle experimentally brings her mouth to his cheek, the skin there just as soft to her lips as it was to her fingers. He lets out a ragged moan at the contact, but this time she is mostly oblivious to it, overtaken by his nearness. The texture of his skin seems more striking this way, the unevenness of it against her lips delighting her.

Despite the overwhelming sensations at being so close to Rumplestiltskin, at kissing him like this, Belle pulls back slightly after only a second. She has no idea yet of the impact of this sort of kiss, but she is persuaded of its harmlessness when the seconds pass and not any physical change presents itself.

He has come to the same conclusion, turning his cheek back towards her lips before either of them can voice their conclusion that they appear to able to kiss like this without causing any currently unwanted reactions. His probably involuntarily sound of need has her only more eager to return to his cheek, moving her lips slightly harder against his skin.

Emboldened and acting purely on instinct, Belle opens her mouth a little, briefly moving her tongue against his cheek. The sounds he consequently makes has her heart racing in response, awed to have the power to evoke such reactions and, more importantly, that he enjoys this as much as she does.

There is no more place for hesitation or awkwardness after that. Clinging to him, fingers digging into his arms through his thin shirt, she repeats the gesture with more fervor, dragging her tongue over several inches of his skin.

Belle never suspected that there could be anything like this, the delight and _warmth_ of touching a man like this. It doesn't matter all that much any longer that they can't kiss each other on the mouth. The joy of these kisses is already almost too much; she isn't certain whether she would be able to manage the supposedly more intense sensations of her lips against his.

Throughout his growls and moans, she ends up covering each inch of his cheek, from the edge of his brow to the curve of his ear to the line of his jaw, but never venturing too near to his mouth. She kisses and she licks, not truly knowing what she's doing, only that she never wants to stop.

That's exactly what Rumplestiltskin does though, gently pushing her away from him after a few minutes. She is distraught, immediately missing his nearness and, more than that, afraid that she has done something wrong. But his look of unadulterated pleasure and wonder persuades her very quickly of the opposite.

He takes a small step towards her, limiting the distance between them to mere inches once more. He angles his head until his mouth is near her cheek, his breath teasing her skin. He lingers and she nods eagerly at the unspoken question, hardly able to wait until he touches her the way she just did with him.

Belle's knees buckle at the first contact, the touch of his lips on her skin sending fire through her and taking her already limited breath away. She'd almost think of it as magic, if it weren't for the fact that Rumplestiltskin seems far too distracted for anything like that, his noises of enjoyment barely differing from those he made when she was the one kissing him.

Just like she did before, he starts hesitantly, as if not certain what to do and whether the touch will be appreciated. This too changes quickly as he luckily doesn't mistake her sharp intakes of breath for anything other than what it really is: utter approval.

Soon, he is kissing her just like she did him, his lips and tongue worshiping every inch of cheek, hungrily and tenderly at the same time. Her breath quickens, desire of a kind she never knew before developing within her, and her heartbeat not slowing down in the slightest.

He doesn't stop there. His lips make their way to her brow, her forehead, to peck and to caress and to lick, before continuing to the bridge of her nose, giving it the same treatment. Belle sighs, her eyes firmly closed, happily surrendering to the unfamiliar sensations swirling inside her.

Rumplestiltskin is muttering words of love and affection to her, whether his lips are on her skin or not. She returns them for as far as she is able, her first real foray into this kind of intimacy so much different - so much _better_ - than anything she could imagine with any other man.

Warmth continues to blossom within her, the sensation as delightful as it is unfamiliar. There is no time to consider it however, not when one of his hands slides down to caress her waist, occasionally venturing slightly lower than before.

He reaches the other side of her face, combining his earlier strokes of lips and tongue with the slightest hint of teeth. Belle trembles in his arms, feeling out of her depth yet safer than she has ever been, _cherished_, beyond delighted both by his touches and the knowledge that there'll be as much of this as they want from now on.

When Rumplestiltskin moves away at length, Belle is very pleased to see that some of the doubt in his expression is replaced by something infinitely lighter than anything she expected to see there just a few hours ago.

Their kisses having come to an end for the time being, Rumplestiltskin pulls her against him, neither of them needing words to express their love at that point. Belle happily snuggles against him, her eyes fluttering closed once more as he continues stroking her hair, her own fingers not idle on his back.


	4. Part 4

Part 4

Belle could have remained standing with Rumplestiltskin like that for a very long time, just savoring his nearness and his timid yet enthusiastic touches, but a sudden noise interrupts the comfortable silence between them.

"What is that?" Belle asks, opening her eyes again to look around. The sound is familiar, but she can't quite put her finger on it.

The sheepish look on Rumplestiltskin's face tells her exactly what she just heard. Indeed, it's been a while since she heard his stomach rumble for the last time, for she persuaded him into eating properly and regularly quite a while ago. But that was _before_, when she was still around to talk him into actually taking his meals.

"How long ago did you eat for the last time?"

He shrugs, avoiding her gaze, and Belle sighs a little. Knowing him, he hasn't eaten since she left three days ago. He doesn't need food like an ordinary man, at least not as much of it, but she highly doubts this is good for him.

"You silly man," she mutters affectionately, wondering whether it was mere inconvenience that prevented him from eating. It wasn't just that she wasn't there to serve him any food; she wasn't there to prepare it either. But then again, there are few things he can't accomplish with a mere snap of his fingers, and she suspects that it's the lack of her presence that prevented him from developing an appetite in the first place.

But now she is back and the demands of his body have caught up with him at last. He is hungry – and, she realizes, so is she.

"Let's get us something to eat."

He smiles at those words, joy mixing with sadness, making clear to her that he has longed for this as well. It reminds her of a conversation they had a long time ago. He doesn't need a housekeeper... he needs someone to look after him, someone to _care_.

"How about I make you your favorite meal?" she asks, chuckling as his entire face lights up at the mere suggestion of having the baked potatoes he likes so much.

He nods enthusiastically, in that moment more an innocent young boy than anything else. That makes it only easier for her to take his hand in her own and guide him towards the kitchen.

To others, he might be the feared Dark One, the infamous Deal-maker, the most cruel and cunning of beings. But to Belle, he is Rumplestiltskin, a man who happens to look different than any other and who loves her like no one else does - who respects, savors and protects her.

She heads for the kitchen, delighted to be able to walk those familiar corridors again, and Rumplestiltskin follows closely behind her, never letting more than half a pace come between them. They reach the kitchen soon and enter it together.

He has never joined her in the kitchen before and Belle is slightly nervous to have him there, to be watched while she performs a skill she only mastered recently. Still, she is glad that he is there. She supposes that he has followed her to remain close to her - to still be able to look at her, convince himself that she has truly returned - and she finds herself enjoying his presence for the same reason.

She happily gets to work, finding the potatoes in the same basket as before, their supply doubtlessly still as endless and baffling. The pots and pans are exactly where she left them in the cupboards, as if they are awaiting her return just like the rest of the castle - and its owner.

Putting the required pans on the stove, Belle fills a smaller pan with water, smiling a little when the flow comes out of a marked stone in the wall as soon as she holds the pan in front of it. It's something else she'll never get used to, another thing which she definitely would have missed back at her father's castle.

The water clatters into the pan and the flow comes to an end on its own accord when the edge is almost reached. More magic, she knows, and although it used to perturb her, Belle has grown used to it to the extent that she isn't worried any longer when such things happen around her.

She hauls the full pan to the stove, intending to light a fire and let the water boil while she peels the potatoes, only to find the wood there burning already. Now that is something which the castle usually doesn't do, doubtlessly because there already is a never ending supply of wood and matches waiting to be used.

Belle turns around and casts a mildly disapproving glance at the man who must have lit the fire for her.

"I can do this without magic, you know," she says, to remind him how much she has learned throughout the months and that she has told him quite some times already that she wishes to cook in the regular way.

"I do. And I also know how long it takes. I'm simply saving both of us some time."

"What's the importance of time when you have an eternity?"

"I'm hungry," he says matter-of-factly, raising a challenging eyebrow.

"That's hardly my fault. You'll just have to be patient."

Belle just rolls her eyes at him, her smile broadening, aware that he is merely jesting. How she has missed their playful banter, the trust that has grown between them to make fun of one another without being actually offending or confronting. At her father's castle she can't talk like that to anyone, let alone to a man.

"Besides, if you really want to have your dinner sooner, you might as well make yourself useful and set the table."

She doesn't actually expect him to obey, but to her amusement Rumplestiltskin immediately sets himself in motion and starts going through the various cupboards and drawers. Belle giggles a bit at the sight, trying - and failing - to imagine Gaston heeding her every command, whether in the kitchen or anywhere else.

Rumplestiltskin looks up, oblivious to the cause of her sudden expression of amusement. He shrugs a little at seeing the unexplained smile on her face before continuing his task, a small smile finding its way to his own lips. It pleases her greatly to see that he finds joy in her delight.

Placing the pan above the burning fire, Belle continues to watch him from the corners of her eyes. To her surprise, he puts the plates and cutlery he found on the small table in the middle of the kitchen, which is usually only used as additional surface to prepare the more complicated meals.

As long as she has been with him, he has always taken his meals at that ridiculously large table in the nearby hall. Although she started sharing his meals after a few weeks, sitting on the long side of the table nearby him rather than on the far, opposite edge, that arrangement never truly lost its edge of impersonality and distance.

The contrast with the small table near the fire couldn't be greater. Now Belle is grateful that the fire is burning already, saving a few precious minutes, for she can't wait to have dinner with him like this. This isn't just cozy... for as far as she's concerned, it's at least as romantic as all the stories she used to read, those of the kind she didn't expect to happen in real life.

There are no chairs, but two of them appear with a flick of his fingers, along with dozens of burning candles spread throughout the kitchen. The pan in place above the fire, Belle just stands still to watch him, to admire him during his work.

Rumplestiltskin critically observes the table, not aware of her eyes on him. With another quick gesture, he conjures a tablecloth beneath the delicate china which is more beautiful than her father - and probably even the king - would ever be able to have.

Finding her looking at him after all, he gives her an apologetic shrug, as if telling her that he supposes that this isn't good enough but doesn't know how to improve the current setting.

"It's perfect," she simply says, his relief at those words visible on his face.

She fills a basket with potatoes and sits down at the unoccupied half of the table, starting to peel them with recently developed efficiency. Much as Rumplestiltskin has already surprised her in the past few hours, none of that takes her quite as aback as he does when he grabs the other chair and sits down opposite her, conjuring a knife to assist her with the potatoes.

"I just want to help," he explains, all pragmatic once more, as if it's only normal for him to share her work like this.

"Thank you," she says, not sure how else to response. It's difficult enough wrap her mind around the fact that this man of all people loves her and treats her like an equal, but to have him helping prepare a meal, to assist her performing women's work... It's unheard of, and she enjoys every second of it.

Her own potatoes momentarily forgotten, Belle watches with fascination as he initially struggles to peel the potatoes, but soon finds an ease and a speed with exceeds her own. He must have learned this and consequently done this a lot at one point of his life, which is another new insight which she carefully stores away for later examination.

She continues her own work and soon all the potatoes in the basket between them are peeled. When she begins cutting them in neat slides, he immediately follows her example. The water above the fire starts to boil just after they are done and Belle puts in several eggs before continuing with the rest of the meal, wanting to make sure to boil the eggs just he likes them.

"I'll take it from here," she tells Rumplestiltskin. Much as she appreciates his help, she fears that his continued assistance would be counterproductive. She has managed the recipe quite perfectly, thanks to his frequent requests of this particular meal, but she isn't certain how to proceed the preparations with the help of anyone else.

More than that, the notion of working at the same surface and dancing around one another to accomplish their various tasks, their bodies doubtlessly accidentally brushing every once in a while, makes her think of things that have nothing to do with cooking whatsoever. As delightful as those images are, she wouldn't want to be distracted to the point of burning his favorite meal during their first evening back together.

He nods and sits down at the table, watching her every move as she collects and prepares a variety of other ingredients. Her back is towards him, but she can all but feel his gaze on her. It's making her slightly nervous in a lovely sort of way. Just to get back at him, she makes a point of elaborately preparing the lettuce, knowing very well that he doesn't like it and always refuses to eat it.

The simple cooking tasks remind her of another reason that she's glad to be here, at the place which she considers to be her real home. She never had the chance to actually cook in her old life, having several cooks and maids at her disposal to ensure tasty meals and treats whenever she desired them.

She was forced to learn here to do all that herself. Although it took her a good few months before her results were somewhat comparable in quality to what she grew up with, she can't imagine not preparing her own food any longer. It's not just that she takes pride in her newly acquired, actually useful skill; Belle genuinely enjoys the work, finding an unexpected kind of calmness and peacefulness in the tasks.

But if she were to continue cooking at her father's castle, it wouldn't only be frowned upon, she wouldn't actually be allowed. She's the daughter of a lord after all - it's funny how she doesn't think of herself as a lady anymore – and whether she actually enjoys it or not, she isn't supposed to perform that type of work.

Belle hums while she works, feeling deliciously warm in a way which has nothing to do with the nearby fire or even the memory of the way Rumplestiltskin just kissed her. Probably for the first time in her life, she is happy being exactly where she is right now, perfectly at ease with the future that is ahead of her.

Caught up in her work and her happy thoughts, she is oblivious that Rumplestiltskin is no longer sitting at the table and approaches her from behind instead. Only when strong arms wrap themselves tightly around her waist, she becomes aware of his close presence.

She squeals in surprise, but more out of delight than anything else. She has grown used to him sneaking up on her, believing him when he says that he doesn't do it on purpose. She'll simply have to get him fully used to sharing his castle with another human being, to remind him what it's like to really live with someone. Besides, his touch has rarely been more welcome than now.

"Don't want to stay away from you," he mutters, burying his face against her neck.

She chuckles, tempted to inform him that the bacon currently requires her attention, but she can't bring herself to it, neither does she really want to.

"You'd better not distract me, though," she cheerfully says, intending to finish preparing the meal as quickly as she can.

Only when he stills behind her, Belle realizes - so very unknowing of such things - that her words are more of a challenge than an actual warning, or at least to the man who is currently all but draped around her.

While she continues her work - or at least, pretends to - he brushes her hair aside with a gentle hand, baring her neck to him. Not wasting a second, he nuzzles her immediately afterwards, having her sigh happily in response at the light and innocent yet intimate touch.

Dinner has been forgotten when his tongue joins his lips, touching and teasing her like he did before. Somehow, his ministrations feel even better when they are focused on her neck rather than her cheek or forehead. Belle can't hold back a startled noise of appreciation, very much aware of the way his hold on her tightens when his caresses meet her approval.

His arms are wrapped around her waist and his hands are on her sides, stroking her skin through the material of her dress. Rumplestiltskin's touches are firmer than before as he finds some of the self-assurance which he lacked earlier. The sensation of being cherished like this is completely knew to her, but Belle welcomes the feelings he creates deep inside of her, almost intimidating in their intensity.

Despite being aware of the intimacy which these touches imply and knowing that Rumplestiltskin is all but claiming her as his own, Belle is nothing but delighted that he has found the courage to express his feelings for her like this, to open up to her in this whole new way.

Doubtlessly noticing her eager reactions to him, Rumplestiltskin continues with only more enthusiasm, the gentle scrape of teeth against the back of her neck leaving her gasping for air.

Belle barely has the presence of mind to put back the spatula she is still holding, convinced that she'll otherwise drop it in the very near future. Dinner will have to wait.


	5. Part 5

_Although there is my opinion nothing that justifies an M rating in this update, please note that this part has a heavy T rating._

* * *

Part 5

"I thought you were hungry," Belle manages, her True Love's arms still wrapped tightly around her waist as he presses her lightly against the surface in front of her.

She surprises herself by actually getting the words out while Rumplestiltskin is doing all these unknown, wonderful things to her.

"Oh yes," he says, his breath hot against her neck, "I most certainly am."

His intentions have never been clearer, just like Belle has never been more aware that she is being touched by a creature who might not be entirely human, but who is still undeniably male. Anything might happen, but she isn't scared in the slightest. Whatever this may lead to, Belle is filled with none of the reluctance and trepidation she always presumed she would experience at such a moment when she was still engaged to Gaston.

She braces both hands on the surface in front of her in an attempt to remain standing while Rumplestiltskin sends the sweetest of sensations coursing through her entire body, moaning when he latches onto a spot somewhere below her ear which turns out to be unexpectedly sensitive.

Belle is slightly bent forwards, leaning on her arms, and he is plastered against her, mimicking the line of her body with his own. Her skirts move upwards a little as a result, exposing the lower part of her legs to the hot air surrounding them. Due to his close proximity, Rumplestiltskin's leathers brush directly against her skin, causing more warmth to pool in her stomach.

Belle's breath is growing heavier, matching the heaving of the man behind her, and perspiration breaks out across her skin at the combination of the nearby fire and Rumplestiltskin's more than welcome closeness. Hardly aware that she is doing so, she rubs her left leg across his, savoring the previously forbidden sensations of his smooth leather against her bare skin.

He grunts in response, the sound startling her if only because it contains such utter need. He pulls her tighter against him and she gasps at being pressed against him like this, every inch of his front flush to her back.

His hands are moving, one of them venturing upwards, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. His progress only stills when he is right below her breast, the back of careful fingers brushing against its swell so lightly that he might as well not have touched her there at all.

It evokes a want for more than just kisses and chaste caresses, a need for something Belle can't quite define. It's unfamiliar and overwhelming, but not in an unpleasant way at all. Just like the notion of being held by an unrelenting body, being _ravished_, would have made her uncomfortable at the very least after an upbringing defined by etiquette, she is nothing but excited and eager now that she is experiencing all those new and unknown desires with Rumplestiltskin.

Indeed, there is no fear or discomfort, or even the remote curiosity that she would have expected, when she finds something hard pressing against her lower back. Belle is rather sure what it is and what it can do, but this is not the time to think of particular sections of the anatomy books which she used to read in secret.

After all, nothing in those scientific texts could have prepared her for the size and firmness of it, right through the material of their clothing; for his whimpers and her own shallow breath, for how _good_ it feels to have him push it against her.

"I've dreamed of this," he whispers, both the hoarse admission and his hot breath against her skin only inflaming her more.

"I will from now on," Belle manages, previously completely oblivious to the possibility of any of this, but by now beyond fascinated by all the new things he is showing her. She knew of True Love's kiss from the stories she liked to read, heard whispers of the unrevealed secrets of the marriage bed, but not in her most wicked fantasies there had been anything like this.

"You don't have to dream," he replies, his voice rough in a way that sends only more heat coursing through her. "If... if you would have me, I'll try to..."

His self-doubt is resurfacing and that just won't do. This one time, Belle just has to shut him up. She _wants_ him and she can't allow for any ambiguity in that regard. She doesn't know what she's doing, not really, but she senses that there's no such thing as doing anything wrong, not while sharing this with Rumplestiltskin.

She is aware of the way he is rubbing himself against her, groaning slightly louder each time he does. Presuming that it feels as good to him as it does to her and that increased contact adds to whatever it is exactly that is building between them, she lightly pushes herself back against him, using her hands on he surface before her for leverage.

He _howls_ as she does so, driving his hips firmly into hers, and his open-mouthed kiss on her shoulder turns into a bite of which she can tell that it's involuntarily. It hurts, but only slightly. More than anything, the combination of the friction between their bodies and his teeth against her skin has pure pleasure rushing throughout her.

Her eyes widen at that unexpectedness of the development, but much more so because of the blinding heat that it causes within her. It's more powerful than anything they have shared before and she groans involuntarily in reaction, the sound unlike anything she made before - completely unlike anything she thought herself to be capable of making in the first place.

Rumplestiltskin removes himself from her immediately. He spins her around so she faces him once more, taking his hands off her right after he has done so. Belle is dizzy by the sudden movement and the pleasure of just before it, making a disgruntled sound at being separated from him like this.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks, eyes frantically searching over her and narrowing when they focus at the spot which must be the one where he accidentally bit her.

"You didn't," she hastily replies, understanding now why he stopped so abruptly and wanting to reassure him that he didn't inflicted any actual pain. "It stung, a little, but..."

"But what?"

He is looking so lost again, so afraid, and if it weren't for the urgency of the situation, she would have wondered how he could doubt himself so much while being able to make her feel so incredibly wonderful.

"It's... lovely," Belle says, yet more blood rushing to her cheeks as she tries to explain to him just how amazing it felt to be touched by him like that, even - especially - when his teeth marked her. "It is... more than lovely. All of it is."

"Indeed," he mutters, not quite looking at her. If his still labored breath and darkened cheeks - would it be possible for him to blush? - are any indication, he agrees with her much more than that single word implies.

But then he awkwardly steps away from her, straightening his clothes and visibly schooling his expression. Just like that, he is once more the man who doesn't quite know what to do with himself, who doesn't believe that anyone can care for him, let alone love and _want _him.

But Belle has seen so much more of him now and she knows that the man who wants her more than anything, who can make her toes curl without apparent effort, is right beneath the seemingly indifferent exterior.

"It looks like I've got a lot to learn," he adds, more self-depreciating than ever. It reminds her of what he told her before, of how long he has been alone. Again, Belle wonders of the wife he doesn't talk about, of how utterly surprised he is not only by her acceptance of him, but also by her... wanton reaction to him.

"_We_ have a lot to learn," she says, hoping to convince him this way that this is unfamiliar to her as well, and that she's more than willing to find out with him just how they can enjoy one another without accidents. "And we will."

Her words are accompanied by a decisively wicked smile that leaves no doubt this time that he is actually blushing. Indeed, she is really, really looking forward to the learning process which is ahead of them.

"I'll just leave you to it, then."

Belle realizes what he is talking about only when he gestures in the general direction of the stove. He mutters a spell, making an end to the blue haze that lingers above the pans. He must have used magic to ensure that the food didn't burn just before they got distracted by a whole different sort of fire.

"Thank you," she says, knowing that she would have had to start all over again with the preparations for their dinner if it weren't for his earlier interference.

"No matter," he replies, sitting down at one of the new kitchen chairs, turning it to watch her while she works.

Her desire for him for the time being exceeded by her hunger for actual food, she goes back to work. She hums happily as she bakes the potatoes and prepares the bacon and vegetables to go with it. Rumplestiltskin never takes his eyes off her, his gaze almost tangible even when her back is towards him. It provides comfort of a sort she wasn't aware of until before.

Casting a glance at him whenever her work allows it, she is increasingly aware of how ordinary they look like this. Ignoring the magically replenished food and the luxurious tableware, the pleasant fire and modest furniture which fills the snug kitchen could be part of any home.

It's domestic in a way she never expected her life to be, either before or after her deal with Rumplestiltskin. It looks like she isn't a knight's daughter from a war-torn land and he isn't a dark wizard, and she's loving it. Even without the hearth's fire, which softens his features yet further, it's obvious that he's thinking among similar lines.

Diner is ready half an hour later and Belle fills both their plates as soon as she can. Rumplestiltskin all but attacks his food the second she pushes it in front of him.

They mostly focus on their meal in the beginning, both of them hungrier than they cared to admit. But as soon as their plates are empty and she helps both of them to a second serving, their attention quickly returns to each another.

They are sitting opposite one another, much more closely and comfortably than they ever were at the large table in the main hall. Rumplestiltskin is still eating as if he was previously on the brink of starvation, but his gaze is focused on her once more instead of the food in front of him.

Belle would be surprised by his capability of not spilling any food while not paying the slightest attention to his meal while he eats, if she weren't far too busy dividing her own focus between the man sitting opposite her and the much-needed food in front of her.

Rumplestiltskin praises her cooking skills in between several mouthfuls of food, making her only happier and more flattered. A faint blush returns to her cheeks in response and the appreciative glint in his eyes tells her that he is very much aware of it.

It makes her wonder how it's possible that a man who possesses such riches can look at her like she is the only thing of value in his entire castle... the only one to matter to him.

Putting down his knife once he doesn't need it anymore for the time being, he gradually moves his now free hand towards her. He lets it rests on the wooden surface right below the two of them, as if afraid to get any closer to her.

Accepting the unspoken invitation, Belle covers his hand with her own, caressing him lightly. She may have touched him before, but each time there is a kind of magic that couldn't differ more from his dark tricks and mischief.

It's wonderful to be able to touch him like this, to bring out that beautiful, tentative smile she has seen so rarely before. The few times that she did, Belle couldn't have imagined anything like this.

In a way, they're exactly the way they used to be, before he sent her away, and yet they're so much more than that. There is the same friendship and loyalty as before, a fondness that grew between them against all odds. But there is love now as well, True Love, and a desire that she couldn't have imagined until a few hours ago.

He lovingly squeezes her hand, his smile broadening. Wonderful as their reunion has been so far, this is only the beginning. If they continue to be as honest and open as they can, things between them are likely to get only better.

His expression is completely unguarded for once, tender and trusting. It has never been clearer to her that he wants this as much as she does, that she wasn't the only one who secretly hoped for something like this for a considerable time. To her great relief, Belle can tell that he intends to fight for this as much as she is prepared to.

Finally, Rumplestiltskin knows just as well as she does that they can have what they have dreamed of - that their happy ending is within reach after all.


	6. Part 6

Part 6

They're done eating eventually, their appetite finally sated when the last crumbs of potato and bacon are consumed. Both of them lean back in their chairs contentedly, wearing identical and rather silly grins.

"Thank you," Rumplestiltskin says at length, timid fingers reaching for her other hand, the one he isn't holding yet.

Belle nods in acknowledgment when he takes both her hands in his own, knowing that he isn't just thanking her for the meal.

She would have been perfectly happy to remain in the warm and cozy kitchen for quite a while longer, but Belle doesn't hesitate in the slightest when Rumplestiltskin stands up and questioningly tugs at her hand, silently asking her to join him.

She almost protest at leaving the no longer neat table's surface and the used dishes like this, but she knows well enough that he can undo the biggest mess, domestic or otherwise, with a flicker of his hand whenever he wishes to do so.

Belle intends to follow him, not minding to walk a step behind him just like she usually does, but he pulls lightly at her hand again, until she is right next to him and they walk side by side.

Although Rumplestiltskin is still guiding her, she is very much aware that it isn't only simply unheard of for a master to treat a servant as such, but also for a man to make so blatantly clear that he considers any woman, even his wife, as an equal.

Lord Maurice's daughter might have been both a lady and a caretaker at various points in her life, but even when there was no reason to suspect that she would ever be anything other than a nobleman's daughter and another nobleman's wife, a future mother of yet more noblemen, Belle could not have expected to receive the respect and status that the supposed Dark One is freely giving her.

She squeezes his hand, for the time being the only way she can think of to let him know that she understands what he is doing, and that she appreciates it very much. He glances back at her, lips quirking upwards in a smile of a kind of which she senses that very, very few people have ever seen it.

In response, he carefully rearranges their fingers. Not only are they holding hands now, like any couple in love might do when there is no one around to frown upon such a open display of affection, but their fingers are closely entwined as well.

Belle is quite certain that this, for now at least, is his way of telling her that he intends to never let go off her again and that the intimacy between them so far is only a small start of all what he hopes to share with her in the near future.

After a short walk, they are back in the main hall, where she found him just a few hours ago. With a few snaps of his fingers the shards of glass and porcelain are gone, easily getting rid of both the mess on the floor and the evidence of his earlier despair.

He only stands still when they're in front of the hearth, its fire roaring invitingly. There's a chair in front of it; she's seen him sitting there frequently, often deeply lost in thought. At another gesture of his hand, the seat is transformed into a large and comfortable looking couch.

Rumplestiltskin doesn't say anything and he doesn't need to in order to let her know what he has in mind. The longing look in his eyes makes very clear what he would like to do.

Sensing that he once more won't be the one to make the first step, that he won't risk attempting to put the new and unfamiliar request into words, Belle is the one to sit down on the couch. She extends her hand to him, showing him that she wants the same as he does.

He sits down next to her, managing to look both eager and awkward while doing so. His posture doesn't change when he is seated, sitting ramrod straight on the comfortable couch. If it weren't for his ever so expressive eyes, telling her that this is exactly what he wants, his tense bearing might have given her the impression that he'd much rather be somewhere else - with someone else.

She has been taught many things in her life so far, but this is yet another situation in which Belle is entirely clueless. She definitely wants to get closer to him, to experience the warmth and pleasantness they shared when they embraced and touched before, but she has no idea how to accomplish that.

In fact, she wouldn't know what to do even if she were to be in Gaston's castle with her straight-forward fiancé at her side - something she has been prepared for for the greater part of her life.

But once again she finds that she doesn't need rules or etiquette to find a way to make this work. Seeing Rumplestiltskin sit next to her like this, all strained nerves, her wish for him to just relax brings an intuitive solution.

Getting up on her knees, she goes to sit behind him, resting her hands on his shoulders. Not deterred when he only tenses further, she simply remains still for a moment, letting him get used to her nearness.

When his breath becomes more regular and even, his posture slightly less taut, Belle experimentally slides her hands off his shoulders, running her fingers up and down his arms before letting them find their way back to his neck.

The sensation of sliding her hands over the silk which covers him is a novelty she can't imagine herself ever tiring of, just like the feeling of warm skin and wiry muscle beneath. Belle hums in appreciation, far from oblivious to the similar sounds that he makes despite her own increasingly consuming enjoyment.

She could spend a long time just touching him like this - and so she does, marveling as he leans back against her.

Making herself more comfortable between him and the back of the couch, she includes his hair in her exploration as well, making good use of her current vantage point. From where she's sitting she can even peek downwards, into the opening of his shirt, some of the skin of his chest revealed to her for the very first time.

She might not be able to see the expression on his face, can't experience his wonder and appreciation that way, but the noises she evokes from him more than make up for that, just like the way he gradually reacts underneath her hands, his earlier unease making place for something quite different.

No matter how much she treasures touching him this way, how the thrill of exploring a man like this drives her to distraction, she has never been more in control of her own emotions and reactions. It greatly helps that Rumplestiltskin is simply sitting there, basically allowing her to do with him whatever pleases her, for once not directly stirring her own desire.

Belle has never enjoyed anything more than the fire he can stoke within her, but she finds a definite delight in this as well, consciously getting to know him – his body – like this. It's another sort of intimacy which was previously completely unknown to her. The thought of marriage - and the marriage bed - would have been significantly more appealing if she would have known of this wonderfully careful exploration of the man she intends to spend the rest of her life with.

Then again, no man other than Rumplestiltskin might appreciate these timid, seemingly pointless touches, the slightest stroke of her fingers against his silk covered torso seemingly bringing him pleasure of the kind she supposed only activity of a yet more private kind could bring.

More importantly, there simply is no other man who Belle wishes to touch like this. The mere thought of running her hands over Gaston like this brings her nothing but some amusement, for she can't imagine her former fiancé approving of such leisurely exploration, presuming him as straight-forward and to-the-point with this as with anything else.

Belle isn't thinking of Gaston or any other man though, not when Rumplestiltskin is whispering her name repeatedly, his reverent tone not all that different from anything he has said to her today, or any day for at least several weeks - _months_, in all likelihood.

Yet, it's so much better now that both of them have been honest with one another at last, now that they don't have to pretend any longer not to want anything other than this. Their love is no longer something that's hanging silently between them, existing without truly _being_; it's real, almost tangible now that it is acknowledged, ready to be further explored and uncovered.

Aware that he hisses with delight each time she touches his neck, Belle fully devotes herself to that part of him, already knowing that she can have him groaning just by scratching him lightly with her nails at his nape.

He tilts his head in response, rubbing his cheek against the palm that isn't teasing him for the time being, while her other hand makes grateful use of the increased access he has granted her.

A tempting idea develops at the sight of all the shimmering skin in front of her. Not needing to ignore such urges any longer, Belle lowers herself until her mouth is on the same height as his neck, bringing her face towards him as soon as she can.

Rumplestiltskin _wails_ when her tongue comes in contact with his skin, the tentativeness of that first lick clearly all but diminishing his enjoyment. Smiling against his skin and feeling just a little smug at her success, Belle continues at this clear sign of approval, licking and nibbling on his neck.

She breathes in deeply, once more not capable of remaining silent herself when she takes in the smell of him. Already his scent is clearer to her, the elements that makes him smell like _him_ more recognizable. There is the leather of his clothing, the straw of his spinning, the parchment of books she too loves so very much, and...

Belle breathes in deeply, literally burying her nose in his hair to be closer to him and identify more of him.

When Rumplestiltskin tenses, she presumes that he does so because she subconsciously stopped touching his neck when she focused on his hair instead. But as he makes a quiet sound unlike any she heard during the past few hours, she presumes that something else is going on.

"What's wrong?!" she cries out, her voice slightly muted by the curly hair that she just can't bring herself to move away from, her eyes still closed. She doesn't want this moment to end, wants more of this - more of _him_ - now that she finally has him, but the dismay in his voice can't be ignored, even in her current state.

"What... what are you doing?!" he asks, the words little more than a squeak as he ignores her own question.

"I'm... smelling your hair."

Only when she says the words out loud, it dawns on Belle how utterly absurd she must seem right now, how ridiculous this must be to him. She doesn't know anything about such things and although she quite likes the idea of going against most of the rules she has been brought up with, _sniffing a man's hair_ just because she wanted to is something she should have stayed away from no matter what.

"But... _why_?"

The lack of mockery in his tone is the only thing that persuades her to actually attempt to answer him.

"I... I like smelling you. And I like your hair."

It's not much of an explanation, but it's the only thing she can think of, her eyes tightly shut in denial as her face is still resting against his surprisingly soft hair. If this is the last time that he lets her do this, she fully intends to enjoy it for as long as she can.

Belle doesn't quite know what to make of the little noise he makes in response, but his next words are more than enough to encourage her, to persuade her that her urge might be bizarre and plainly _odd_, but that there's nothing wrong about it as long as both of them enjoy it.

"Then, by all means..."

She doesn't understand why his voice is hoarse, as if her behavior has pleased or moved him, but she isn't going to question it just yet. Much as she'd like to know why he reacts like this, why it influences him almost more than anything they've done so far, the explanation is going to have to wait until they are less occupied with finding out what else can impact him like this.

Pressing her face more firmly against his scalp, Belle breathes in deeply once more, letting out a little sigh of delight when his scent envelops her again.

Aware that she isn't touching him anywhere else at the moment and that she would like to do so again, she brings her hands to his front, caressing his chest through the silk of his shirt.

Her touches are slow, more and more purposeful as she starts to find out what draws particularly vocal reactions from him. In his ever increasing loudness, it takes her a while to realize that she has subconsciously gotten closer to him, to the point that her front is pressed tightly against his back and that her thighs are on either side of his.

It turns out that she is accidentally but undeniably rubbing herself against him with each movement. Moreover, she is all but straddling his back, her usually modest skirt not decent any longer as it is basically bundled up around her waist. Still, it's not embarrassment at their so-called inappropriate nearness that has her blushing.

If anything, Belle is beyond excited to be so very close to her True Love, to find that she can please him, _pleasure_ him, despite hardly knowing what she is doing - and to find that she finds incredible delight in such actions as well.

She has no point of reference for this, none whatsoever, but her next step is just as logical to her as the day that follows the night. Knowing by now just how very sensitive his skin can be, she is intend on finding out whether there are other parts of him which react just as interestingly to her touch as the nape of his neck does.


	7. Part 7

… _and they really just can't help themselves. Here's another almost but not quite M rated part._

* * *

Part 7

Rumplestiltskin makes a soft noise of protest when Belle moves her hands away from his chest, but that changes quickly when they find their way underneath his shirt.

He goes so still that Belle fears that she has gone too far or that she has done something wrong after all, but then he shudders and growls in a way that can't possibly be mistaken for anything but raw desire.

Before she knows it, her eager fingers have crept further underneath his silks, finding trembling muscles and only slightly rough skin beneath her fingertips. More than happy to explore, she caresses his stomach, leaving the Dark One to quiver with delight in her arms, gasping her name.

There would be nothing left of the fear which he can inspire in people, nothing whatsoever, if they were to see him like this. But that will never happen, if only because Belle wouldn't allow it. Rumplestiltskin is hers and hers alone. She'll have no one intruding on this, to see how she apparently can make him feel. This is _theirs_, and only more special for it.

He covers her hands with his own through the silk fabric, as if to guide her or pull her away. Belle stills in reaction, not certain what he is trying to tell her. But then he squeezes gently in encouragement, and she continues immediately, his hands remaining atop hers.

"I just want to be sure," Rumplestiltskin mutters, the sentence ending in a contented sigh when her hands are sliding over his skin once more.

Belle doesn't know what he is talking about, not until she notices that he does nothing but resting his hands on hers, going where she brings them. She wouldn't have believed that he's only doing this to make sure that this is truly real, that those hands are hers and so much more than his own dream or fantasy, if it weren't for the fact that he is much more intent on holding her hands than guiding them.

Continuing her exploration, she slides her hands upwards, grateful that the loose material of his shirt allows her for so much movement. Her curious fingers find a small nub and she smiles with joy and undeniable pride when Rumplestiltskin makes another one of those delightfully desperate noises as she tentatively touches it.

She locates a similar spot quickly and soon her touches are no longer light and careful. She caresses and even scratches him less and less gently when the increased roughness has him grunting her name and pleading for more.

Belle becomes quite breathless herself when she notices that she experiences something seemingly similar to him. Initially, the way her chest rubbed against his back was merely a coincidence, nothing but a means of getting closer to him so she could reach new parts of him.

But now she finds that this accidental friction creates the same sensations as his hands did when he touched her in the kitchen. Wanting to experience as much of this delightful feeling as she can, she firmly and purposefully pushes herself against Rumplestiltskin's backside.

He becomes only more vocal at the increased contact, which leads to the unexpected conclusion that his voice too adds to the desire that is washing over her. Kissing his neck with more vigor, a previously unknown part of her wonders just how much she can do like this - or rather, how much she can _undo_.

Maneuvering until she can peek over his shoulder, Belle glances down his body. Her breath falters for a few seconds when she takes in the part of him that made itself felt when he was pressed so wonderfully tightly against her in the kitchen. Belle might not be able to actually see it, but the distinctive bulge in his leathers is unmistakable.

Even if she wouldn't have been lectured on the inappropriateness of situations like these for as long as she could remember, Belle would have been reluctant to actually reach out for him. Much as she'd like to touch him, _all of him_, she is quite at a loss.

The few things she was taught in this regard tell her that all this needs to happen in the marriage bed, in the dark. Her physical presence and her quietness - her compliance, her surrender - would be all that would be required of her. If anything, any behavior beyond that would be frowned upon and disapproved of in the very least.

Yet, here they are, on a couch in the main hall of the Dark Castle, the evening scarcely begun. The man she is with is not her husband and she is as far from being a passive, _dutiful_ wife as she could possibly be. It's different than everything she thought possible, condoned by everyone she once knew, but Belle wouldn't want to change the slightest detail about it.

She still doesn't have a clue what she is actually doing, whether she should be doing this at all. But it feels _good_ and Rumplestiltskin is so very close to her, openly expressing his approval of anything she does, and there's no way that she's going to stop.

Between his incoherent words of pleasure and unmistakable urges for _more_, the decision to relocate one of her hands to his knee is an easy one to make

Her other hand continuing to roam his chest, she forces herself to _breathe_ when she finds his tight leathers warm with the heat of his body. She supposes that she might as well be touching his bare skin, the solid but thin material doing very little of shielding his upper leg from her.

Although she hasn't quite forgotten about the apparent epicenter of his arousal, it's not a deliberate choice to slide her hand upwards, caressing a trembling thigh. It's more his sudden quietness and the seemingly helpless jerks of his body which leave her no option but to venture upwards, finding that the slightest scratch of nails on his inner thigh has him arching off the couch.

His hands must have slid off hers at one point, for she sees him digging his fingers into the couch at his side from the corners of his eyes. She takes it as a sign that he no longer needs to remind himself that this is really happening, that he is fully convinced at last that he isn't dreaming after all.

Being wrapped all around Rumplestiltskin, both of her hands all over him and her face pressed against his neck and hair, Belle is completely carried away by his nearness. This is probably what it was like for him when they were in the kitchen, when he was behind her and touched her just about anywhere, his mouth never wandering from her neck and shoulders.

That moment had ended far too quickly and abruptly for her liking. Recalling how her own eagerness had startled him, she reminds herself to be careful and not to do anything rash, much as his labored breathing and sounds of enjoyment might cause such actions.

Belle brings her focus back to his neck for the time being, her hands drawing subconscious circles on his thigh and stomach, attempting to calm herself a little. She wants to be somewhat aware of what she is doing, of what she is making both of them feel. This is near impossible to achieve with the ever increasing heat within her, demanding more and more of her attention.

Just touching his neck proves once more to be completely addicting and distracting in itself. She finds a spot where his pulse is palpable and where the slightest flicker of her tongue leaves him utterly breathless. Naturally, Belle takes full advantage of her latest discovery, wanting to give him as much pleasure as she can.

She ends up suckling lightly on the small patch of skin, carefully using her teeth as well upon remembering how strongly he reacted to that before. It turns out that the impact hasn't decreased in the slightest. He throws his head back, almost hitting hers as he does so, and hisses something that bears vague similarities to her name.

Her hand on his leg appears to be having a life of its own, slowly but surely wandering to where both of them intuitively need it to be. Belle is however still focused on finding out just how wild she can drive him by touching his neck, oblivious to the quite different reason for the way he is currently all but thrashing against her.

"_Stop_."

The roughly muttered word only registers when his hand covers her own once again, yanking it away. With considerably more force than before, he's effectively trapping her, preventing her progress when she was mere inches away from...

Belle gasps in realization of what just almost happened. Her shock is caused more by her own unawareness of her advancement than by the fact that she was just seconds from touching him _there_, but it's obvious that the same doesn't go for him.

By then it's a huge disadvantage that she can't see his face, but moving so that she at least can look him in the eyes seems like a bad idea. Rumplestiltskin sits eerily still, almost as if frozen, her arms still around him. He reminds her of a terrified animal, one which will bolt at the slightest disturbance, never to be seen again.

"What's wrong?" she asks as quietly as she can when the sudden, heavy silence between them lengthens. "Shouldn't I have..."

Tempting as it might be to ask him what she has done wrong, Belle senses that she has done no such thing. It seems completely ridiculous, given how little she knows of all this, but it was obvious to her that he very much enjoyed what they were doing. After all, he literally stated that he needed _more_, whatever that means exactly.

A harsh chuckle is the least thing she expects in response, but it appears that he is actually laughing, sounding almost pained while doing so.

"There's nothing wrong, dearest."

"Then why did you..."

She frowns in confusion, not understanding his reaction at all.

"It was perfect, Belle. You were... _are_. Too perfect."

"What do you mean?"

His reply isn't enlightening at all. It has something to do with her almost touching the part of him that was all but bursting out of his leathers, at least she is certain of that, but Belle can't see how that can possibly be a bad thing. Not with him grunting in pleasure at her touches, not with her moaning at the wonderfulness of it all.

"I don't want to terrify you."

Her first reaction is to tell him that there is no way that he can terrify her, not with this at least, but she swallows back that answer when she takes in his bowed head, the way he hides his face behind the curtain of his hair.

His response more an apology than anything else, it becomes clear to her that _he_ is the one who is scared. Despite everything they have shared so far, he is still afraid that she'll reject him, that she doesn't want to experience this with him.

Belle can think of no words which might persuade him that she doesn't care what he looks or sounds like - that she _wants_ him, despite not understanding or being familiar with that urge - so she opts to show him instead.

Removing her hand from where it lies now idle on the relatively safety of his knee, she embraces him again, putting her arms loosely around his shoulders and resting her forehead lightly against his neck.

"Is this all right?" she asks, having some notion by now of what their desire can drive them to. It's accompanied by the determination not to rush blindly into such territory again - at least not so very soon – if only because there is no telling at all what might happen and it seems more likely than not at this point that they end up misunderstanding one another.

"Yes," he replies, already sounding calmer than a minute ago. "Just... just give me a moment, please."

His breathing is still labored, so much quicker and deeper than usual, and so is her own. The silence no longer unbearable, they remain comfortably close to one another, gradually regaining full control over their own bodies.

Rumplestiltskin slumps back against her, all earlier tension having left him, and Belle happily leans against the back of the seat to accommodate him. Sprawled on the couch together, she doesn't dare look down his body again to assess the state of him. Instead, she rests her head against his shoulder and focuses on their breathing, finding it almost synchronized.

"Do you want me to leave?" he asks at length, more vulnerable than she has ever heard him.

Going away from him is the last thing she wants, especially now. She considers her answer carefully however, aware that he isn't just offering to go away from her right now.

Belle has known him long enough to see that he is basically giving her an opportunity to get away, to _flee_ for a while - if not forever. As if it's a bad thing that she just drove him all but wild with desire, in her innocent enthusiasm initiating something that neither of them is quite prepared for.

"No," she firmly says, tightening her hold on him. "All I'd like is for you to warn me a bit sooner and less abruptly the next time that something... happens."

"I shall do that," he replies, his awed and relieved tone indicating that he is very much aware of the implication that she most definitely wants there to be a next time.

"Hold me?" she asks softly, her embrace from behind no longer providing the comfort she longs for the most.

"Of course," he mutters, immediately enveloping her in his arms and pulling her lovingly to his chest, with none of the uneasiness that such a gesture would have characterized just a few days ago.

Belle cuddles against him, finding that they fit perfectly together this way as well. Rumplestiltskin seems relaxed once more, as if he has entirely recovered from whatever it was exactly that she evoked within him. She doesn't allow herself to wonder if she can rekindle that fire - or rather, how quickly - just yet, just like she decides that it's probably best not to linger on his scent now that it differs subtly from before, yet more headier and _him_.

She could have happily stayed in his gentle embrace for a long time, but just when her eyes begin to flutter closed, she becomes aware of something on his skin which wasn't there before. Moving back slightly, temporarily ignoring his rumble of protest, she spots some sort of mark on his skin at the juncture between his neck and his shoulder.

"What is it?" he asks, the familiar weariness making its way back to his tone already, as if he only expects her to find out something to dislike about him after all.

"There's something on your skin," she says, hoping to convey her sincere curiosity instead of the disapproval he anticipates. "One spot is darker than the rest."

She runs her fingers over it, if only not to giggle at his cross-eyed stare when he attempts to look at his own skin, seemingly having forgotten about the magic that doubtlessly enables him to see that spot in a much easier manner.

"It's like a mark," she muses out loud, wondering how it could have gotten there.

Her fingers are joined by his, the accidental contact causing a pleasant tingle. Belle withdraws her hand to enable him better access, hoping that he can give a reassuring explanation.

"This is the spot where you... kissed me, isn't it?"

"I suppose it is, yes," she says, realization dawning. Color rises to her cheeks, knowing that she did a whole lot more than kissing. Already the memory is quite vague, the sheer excitement of it all drowning out the various details. She is certain however that she used her tongue and even her teeth as well, all of which apparently resulted in... this. "Do you think that I... did that?"

"I'm quite sure, dearest," Rumplestiltskin replies, his uncertainty disappearing as quickly as it arose, being replaced by the thoroughly pleased tone that is one of the many things of him which she loves so dearly. "I shall wear it with pride. You're very welcome to make another one in case you want to be sure."

"I'd love to," she says, lowering her gaze intuitively but aware that her cheeks don't flush all that much this time. Maybe she's slightly getting used to talking about these things after all.

Whereas she greatly appreciates all the touches they shared so far, caressing him with her lips, teeth and tongue combined was particularly pleasant, something which she would indeed gladly repeat in the near future.

"Better not now, though," he says, sounding both determined and regretful.

"Small steps," she mutters, understanding what he is telling her, what he has been saying both with and without words from the moment she came back.

"Precisely," he agrees, gently bringing her face to his silk-clad chest and lovingly stroking her by now very messy curls.

She happily snuggles against him, his words reminding her that a way to happiness can be found no matter how unlikely and impossible their love may seem, as long as they are careful and honest with one another.

Utterly content and comfortable in Rumplestiltskin's arms, she stares into the fire, letting the flames in the hearth add to the most pleasant glow inside of her.


	8. Part 8

Part 8

"Would you like to go to your room?" Rumplestiltskin asks after they have sat together on the couch for a long while, never letting go off one another. "You've had a long day. You might like to rest now, or spend some time without me."

"I'd prefer to stay with you," Belle replies. "It's lovely just to sit like this."

"It is," he agrees, his tone one of wonder. Rumplestiltskin may still find it difficult to believe that they are actually together like this, but he definitely enjoys it as much as she does. "And this might make it even better."

A cloud of purple smoke appears at the tips of his fingers. When it clears, he is holding a familiar book. Belle gasps in delight when she recognizes it as the one she carefully selected from his library just a few days ago, the one which has been waiting on her nightstand for her to get started with it ever since.

She reaches for the book, jumping on the chance to read in his company. She supposes that she'll read at his side like she used to, only this time there doesn't have to be any distance between them and he won't have to pretend that he's spinning instead of constantly looking at her from the corners of his eyes.

He hands the book to her, but doesn't let go off it when she takes it. She looks back at him, raising an questioning eyebrow, which drops immediately at the expression of shyness on his face. It fascinate her that he can still look so uncertain, despite everything they have already experienced together - and the never ending confirmation that both of them enjoy these things equally.

"Maybe you'd like me to read to you?"

She nods wordlessly, overcome with yet more love for this most unusual man. His proposal is delightful, and so much more than that. Her father may have reluctantly allowed her to read, if only because he couldn't bear denying her anything that was in his power to give her, but Belle knew better than to expect the same from her former fiancé.

Indeed, just about any man would have bristled at the notion of her going through books like she enjoys so very much, both for entertainment and for study. But the person at her side approves of it, _encourages_ it. Not simply because he knows how much it means to her and because her happiness is of such importance to him, but also because he appreciates her curiosity and thirst for knowledge.

Belle notices that tears are rolling down her cheeks only when he makes a noise of distress and reaches for her. His movement falters before his fingers are against her skin, betraying that he is still reluctant to touch her and still isn't quite sure how to act around her, especially not in moments such as these.

"I won't insist," Rumplestiltskin utters, mistaking her tears and silence for rejection. "It's just that I imagined... Well, no matter. I'll leave you to it, then. Some peace and quiet to read... alone... of course that's what you have in mind."

"Please don't go," she manages as she grabs his hand, wanting to make as clear to him as she can that his presence is the only thing she truly wants. "I'm not sad or upset... just a bit overwhelmed."

"But you are... weeping," he mutters, studying her intently, as if the notion that one can cry from sheer happiness is completely unknown to him.

"It seems I am, yes," she replies, smiling at him through her tears. "It must be because I have you now."

Rumplestiltskin is puzzled by her words, as if he can't believe that she is truly happy to be with him like this. But then he gives her a tentative smile and gets somewhat closer to her again.

At her firm nod, he brings his fingers to her cheeks, brushing the tears away. Only more of them appear at the most tender of gestures, especially when his lips join his hands in his determination to utilize as much of himself as he can to free her from the evidence of what he initially perceived as sadness.

His lips and fingertips linger long after the salty liquid is gone, until she is smiling at the lightest stirs of him against her. Only when he appears to be entirely satisfied that her tears have disappeared, he slowly withdraws from her.

"I'd love for you to read to me," she says, just so there can be no doubt about it. "It's just that... well, I haven't started with it yet, but it looks like a complex and... detailed tome. I wouldn't want to bore you with it."

The look on his face leaves no doubt that there is no such thing, that there is nothing that could possibly bore him as long as she is with him.

The way they end up cuddled on the couch together, her head and hand on his chest and the book propped up on his stomach, is fluent and effortless. Belle supposes that this is because she isn't the only one who has been secretly thinking of sharing her favorite pastime with her True Love.

Rumplestiltskin himself is surprisingly adapt at holding her pleasantly while both of them can read the book at the same time. The only explanation must be that they have been exactly like this plenty of times in his mind's eye just as much as her own.

He runs his fingers lovingly over the ancient pages of the worn yet well-preserved spine. The movement takes Belle's breath away; not just because it is easy to imagine his fingertips sliding over her own skin instead of the smooth leather, but also because he touches the old tome with as much respect and joy as she would herself.

"Agrabah," he mutters, more to himself than to her, as he takes in the words on the fist page.

"Have you been there?" she asks, recognizing his almost reminiscing tone.

"Yes. Not very often, but I have visited that faraway land several times."

She doesn't need to ask in order to know that there are many, many intriguing stories that he can tell her about those travels. But not this time, not with the book of her choice opened in front of them.

"I'll take you there one day."

He speaks almost as in an afterthought, focusing his attention on the words on the page, but Belle temporarily almost forgets about the book as his words sink in, a shiver of both excitement and utter contentment going through her at those words.

The possibility of accompanying him on his travels hasn't occurred to her, if only because she associates his travels with his work, the dark magic that he doesn't want her to know of, let alone witness.

But Rumplestiltskin can do whatever he wants, travel for whatever purpose he desires. That includes taking her to far, impossible destinations, just for the sake of it, just because she would find great joy in seeing the world after all.

She wouldn't dare asking it of him - not yet, at any rate - but it's already clear to her that she doesn't need to. More content than ever before, Belle makes herself more comfortable, finding that her True Love's chest is in fact an excellent pillow.

Rumplestiltskin makes a noise of unmistakable enjoyment before he clears his throat and begins to read, his calm and mesmerizing voice taking her to the earliest history of Agrabah.

Although Belle is intuitively quite sure that he isn't using magic, he might as well be. Hour after hour passes as he reads one chapter after the next, his tone so vivid and enthusiastic that she can see the words come to life in her mind, even more than they ever do when she reads herself.

Fascinating as the development of Agrabah is, Belle isn't entirely focused on the narration alone. Her current surroundings, from the comfort and joy of being snuggled against Rumplestiltskin to the warmth of the roaring fire, are too perfect to be taken for granted.

She could stay like that forever, and she probably would have chosen not to move at all for a very long time if that were possible, but she is exhausted by today's events. Her eyes becoming heavy, she can't hold back a deep and rather unflattering yawn.

She covers her open mouth with her hand, having to shrug off the fingers that are absently caressing her arm to do so. Rumplestiltskin simply continues to read, as if not noticing either her movement or the tiredness that caused it.

Belle is grateful for it, not wanting him to interrupt the quiet perfection by stopping with his narration. Breathing in deeply several times in an attempt to feel less sleepy, she devotes all her focus to the story and his voice once more.

Half an hour later however she can barely keep her attention to the story any longer. She is dozing even as Rumplestiltskin tells of the grueling wars between Agrabah and its neighboring countries. Much as she hates to admit it, going to bed is the only thing she wants right now.

More than their current comfort, she longs for the mattress, blankets and pillows which are doubtlessly awaiting her in her bedroom, each yet softer than the other. Still, she is quite certain that even the cot in the dungeon where she spent her first few nights in the Dark Castle will suffice at this point.

He is still reading though and she rests her hand on his to pause him, gently coaxing him to close the book.

"Thank you, Rumplestiltskin. I enjoyed that very much. I hope you'd like to read for me again after today, but I'd like to retire to bed now."

"Already?" he asks, not managing to sound as surprised as he pretends to be. "It's not all that late, is it?"

"I don't know," Belle replies, although she is quite certain that at least several hours have passed since he began to read, given the number of pages he has turned already. "Either way, I'm tired and I'm afraid that I'll just fall asleep here if I don't go to bed soon."

He raises an eyebrow at her words, indicating that he sees no problem whatsoever in that. Belle can't deny that the notion of falling asleep right there and then in Rumplestiltskin's arms is a tempting one, but her body is already starting to protest the current lack of a large flat surface after having walked countless miles during the past days.

"I'll be glad to read for you some more. It wouldn't be a problem if you were to fall asleep. I can always bring you back to your room if..."

He trails off at her doubtlessly shocked expression. But her daze is not due the forbiddingness of the images he evokes within her mind; far from it.

It's only too easy and delightful to imagine him picking up her sleeping body, yet more careful in this state than he usually is with her, to carry her reverently in his arms to her room. He would sit down on the edge of her bed and lower her gently onto the mattress, brushing away a stray lock of curls from her forehead...

Belle shakes her head, aware that the difference between reality and fantasy is already blurring. No matter how wickedly lovely it would be to have him carry her to her bedroom, right now she needs a good night's sleep. That way, she can start the next day - the beginning of her new life - with as much energy and enthusiasm as she could possibly need.

"I'll read you another chapter," he says, taking her silence for approval.

"Lovely as that sounds, I'd really prefer to go to bed now."

"Can't I read one more chapter before you go?"

He sounds almost like a child, pleading his parent for one more story, a few more minutes out of bed.

"You can read for me again tomorrow. You can read the entire evening... or all day, if you'd like. It would be lovely."

"Just one more page?"

"I'm sorry Rumplestiltskin, but I really want to go to sleep. I've been walking for three days; I'm very tired. I shall be quite useless tomorrow if I don't get some proper rest soon."

Even as she talks, she has to suppress another yawn. There's no stopping it and she places an apologizing hand in front of her mouth once more, until it closes again at last.

"I understand," he says, the evidence of her exhaustion undeniable for him as well.

"You can read to me again as soon as I wake up in the morning, all right?"

Belle doesn't see why he is pushing this, why he is so very intent on reading to her as much as he can.

But then she goes to untangle herself from him and sees the look on his face. Rumplestiltskin is forlorn, looking almost just as lonely, as desperate, as he did this afternoon, before he was convinced of her return.

That makes it easy for her to understand after all why he doesn't want to stop reading to her. It isn't about the reading as such, not at all. He is simply looking for a reason to stall, to be with her for as long as he can. She isn't entirely certain why he would want to do such a thing, but she has the strong suspicion that it isn't simply about spending as much time with her as he can now that she is back.

Indeed, Belle is quite certain that he doesn't want to let go off her now simply because he won't believe that she'll actually be there in the morning. She doesn't know whether he fears that she'll leave or that her return was nothing but a trick of his imagination. Either way, it's clear to her that he at least partly believes that he'll lose her again the moment that she leaves for her bedroom.

"I'm not going anywhere," she promises, brushing a kiss against his temple.

He closes his eyes, savoring her touch as if it'll be the last, and he hardly looks convinced. If she knew what was going on in that head of his, she might be able to make an end to whatever worries are bothering him. But the truth is that she can't begin to understand what exactly is tormenting him so, what demons are lingering in his mind.

Belle imagines that he has slept as little as she has during the past few nights. She is certain that he won't get any sleep tonight at all if she were to leave him now, pacing the Dark Castle throughout the night instead of getting the rest even he probably needs.

That makes the decision a very easy one to make.

"Come with me," she says, standing up from the couch and encouraging him to do the same.

He hesitantly follows her example after a few long seconds. Except for blinking with disbelief, he is motionless as he stands there, as if captured by some sort of spell.

She takes his hand between her own to make her point clearer, guiding him out of the hall and towards the nearest flight of stairs. After all what has happened, there is no way that she is going to let him out of sight and that she is going to spend one more moment alone, wishing with all her heart that her True Love would be with her.

The further they get from the main hall, the less responsive he gets. Belle is not deterred. She simply pulls harder on his arm, all but dragging Rumplestiltskin to her bedroom.


	9. Part 9

Part 9

Eventually, they reach the room where she slept during the past year, the queen-like room which he gave her after she spent a few weeks in the dungeon. Belle opens the door, fully intending to take her True Love inside, to guide him to the welcoming light of the already burning candles.

But Rumplestiltskin plants his feet firmly on the ground just before the threshold, refusing to pass it.

"No," he says firmly, shaking his head as well to emphasize the single word of refusal. "I won't go in there."

"This is still my room, is it not?" she asks, confused by his blatant refusal to proceed.

"Indeed, it is. _Your_ room."

"All right then. So it is to me to decide who I invite in here."

The sound he makes in response is almost a wail of longing. It makes Belle realize that she hasn't exactly thought this through. After the way they just rested together on the couch before the hearth, asking him to sleep in her bed didn't seem that big of a step.

But now that he's actually here, her bed within sight, she has to admit to herself that she has no idea what he is expecting. In fact, she isn't certain any longer what she wants herself. She definitely wants him close to her, but just exactly _how_ close she isn't sure. They have found out already that there are at least some intimacies they can share without breaking his curse, but also that things between them can get out of control really, really quickly.

Her eyelids drooping from exhaustion, this is far from the best time to surrender to the fire that all but burned them before, even if they wouldn't have determined earlier that day that neither of them is willing to take the risk of ruining anything between them by their own impatience to express their love physically.

"I thought that it might be better for both of us if we stayed in the same room tonight, and since I don't even know for sure where your room is..." she says quickly, all but stumbling over her words in her haste to explain herself to him and clear her own thoughts. "It seems pleasant to me to sleep next to you, but..."

She looks up at him. It's not an easy task, her cheeks flushing while talking like this, but she needs to know what he is thinking. She hopes that his expression might give her a clue on what he wants, on how she might proceed without making this any worse.

It was a good decision. Her blushes don't cease at all upon finding his ever intent gaze focused solely on her, but the sheer longing that his expression betrays tells Belle that she needn't have worried. His desire for her - _all_ of her - has been undeniable throughout the day, but just being with her, sharing his space with her, is what matters to him most.

The way he gazes from her to the bed and back again is very similar to the look in his eyes when they cuddled before the fire in the main hall. Everything about him implies that he wants exactly the same as he does and that the thought of continuing their exploration of one another's bodies tonight hadn't actually occurred to him.

"Come in," she says quietly, entirely certain of herself once more. "The bed is more than large enough for two. Both of us will sleep better if we aren't alone tonight. That's all. You can split the bed, if you'd like."

She is inwardly seething at the vile rumors she heard about the two of them while she traveled. According to the rumors, he had done the most cruel and humiliating things to her, abused her in ways of which the whispered descriptions alone made her feel sick.

They really have no idea about him, truly don't know the man at all whom they curse and hate despite their frequent need of him. No matter his looks and history, his reputation, Rumplestiltskin has never harmed her. Even at this point, he is more than reluctant to cross any boundaries, respects and considers her comfort and virtue in a way very few other men would have - her former fiancé definitely not being one of them.

Still, Rumplestiltskin lingers just outside her bedroom, conflicted.

"I can't," he says, sounding pained.

"Don't you want to?" she asks, already knowing the answer but needing him to say it, hoping that it'll persuade Rumplestiltskin of his own desire to stay with her.

"I do," he breathes, an almost desperate edge to his voice. "But we _can't_."

"Why not?"

He all but growls in frustration, as if the mere thought of sleeping in her bed is too much for him given whatever it is that prevents him from doing just that.

"It is _wrong_, Belle. You are young and _innocent_, and I'm..."

"You worry about what people might say," she replies, cutting him off before he can voice the self-doubt and self-loathing that pains her so much, beginning to see where this is going.

"Yes... _no_. Yes. That too. People will talk, they'll say the most horrible things, and you don't deserve that. But it is about _you_, Belle. You... you don't know what you're asking, not really. You can't possibly want this... not with me."

"Rumplestiltskin..."

She smiles despite herself, wondering if he really can't see that his hesitance, his current refusal, only convinces her more that there is nothing wrong in sleeping at his side tonight... that it makes her only want him more.

"I do know what I'm asking. I'm asking you to stay with me tonight, to sleep in my bed... to hold me. Nothing more than that... not yet."

The desire that her words cause in him is unmistakable. Still, it's not the implication of _more_ that enchants him right now... it's simply the notion of holding her throughout the night.

"Belle, your stay here with me harms your reputation enough as it is. But if something like this were to happen, if I were to be in your room, in your _bed_, no matter what actually does or doesn't happen..."

"People talk no matter what. It's not as if they are actually here, is it?" she says, placing her hands on his lower arms, hoping to soothe him. "They already are talking anyway. I heard them when I was still traveling back to my father's land."

He looks utterly shocked and she wonders how he possibly can not know.

"They say you've ruined me," she adds, whispering. "They say you hurt me."

"I know I have been cruel to you, but I promise you that I would _never_..."

He is mortified, _shocked_, and she gulps, aware that he really has no idea what people are saying about her... about _them_.

"I _know_," she says, tightening her hold on him, stroking him through the material of his shirt. "But there's nothing we can do about it, not really. It doesn't matter. They don't know about us, they don't know the truth. They don't need to. I don't care what they say, not as long as I'm with you. You are better than what they say... better than them. They haven't got any idea what is really going on between us. No matter what you chose, no matter what you do, I don't want you to be influenced by whatever people may say or think of either of us."

Rumplestiltskin shakes his head, looking nauseous but also vaguely relieved.

"Come on," she says, seeing his resolve crumble. "We need to rest. Both of us... together."

She pulls playfully at his sleeve, and this time he does follow her over the threshold. The shuffle of his feet is awkward and unsure, but he enters her bedroom anyway, and that's all what matters.

There's a comfortable chair at the window, where she has spent many an evening reading peacefully. She guides Rumplestiltskin to it, aware of his lingering hesitancy and nervous glances. No matter how much he wants this, he still looks like he is going to bolt at any moment. Before anything else, Belle wants to reassure him, to make clear to him that this is truly what she wants.

"Let's just sit here for a while," she says, guiding him down.

He does as suggested, keeping their hands entwined. Belle kneels down at his feet, experimentally resting her head on his knees, angling it in such a way that she can still look at him. Physically, she isn't exactly comfortable, but she finds it very enjoyable to sit with him like this nonetheless, this kind of wonderful closeness still so very new and lovely.

His hands find their way into her hair, taking grateful advantage of the opportunity, and Belle's eyes flutter closed in delight when he caresses her messily pinned up locks with reverence. She shifts a little, making herself more comfortable, and sighs with contentedness.

"You... you were never afraid that I would really hurt you, weren't you?"

Her eyes open again, finding him looking at her with trepidation.

"Never," she promises him, wanting to make as clear to him as she can that she has indeed never feared that he would physically harm her in any way, at least not since she actually arrived at the Dark Castle. She found out soon enough that his perceived cruelty is only directed at those careless enough to agree to deals of which they would either be unable or unwilling to meet their and of the bargain.

"I... I'm glad," he says, his expression suggesting that it's quite an understatement, that he's utterly relieved to find that she has never feared him the way he grew to presume. "I don't ever want that to change."

"It won't," Belle replies, of that more certain than anything else. There are many things ahead of them, things which might be unknown and intimidating, but she knows that there is nothing to be afraid of when she shares them with this man.

He smiles at her response, not entirely convinced but certain enough for the time being.

"We'll take all necessary precautions," he says, thoughtful. "For tonight, I'll conjure a second bed for me to sleep, with plenty of space between them."

"You think that is necessary?"

She can't deny towards herself that she is disappointed. Belle already imagined herself sleeping peacefully and securely in his arms, waking up with her True Love right next to her...

"I wish that I could promise you that I wouldn't make you... uncomfortable during the night, but I can't guarantee what I will and won't do if I fall asleep."

"I don't think there is much that can go wrong if we just sleep in one bed," Belle says, blushing at her own boldness but convinced of the rightness of her wishes. She doesn't quite like that he implies that he might not sleep, but just discussing this is challenging enough as it is.

Rumplestiltskin opens his mouth to object, but she raises a hand to silence him and let her finish speaking first.

"I know you wouldn't do anything like that on purpose. And anything which you might do accidentally... would it really be that bad?"

She waggles her eyebrows in which she hopes is a suggestive manner. Judging from the way he growls and hauls her upwards, it works. He pulls her into his lap, embracing her tightly. Belle curls happily against him, her hand finding its way back to the nape of his neck, stroking it the way she has learned he likes.

"Rumplestiltskin, your touch is not unwelcome... far from it."

Her cheeks most be as red as tomatoes at that point, but she doesn't care that she is going against every rule and etiquette that she has ever been taught, not when he is looking at her like she has just personally provided him with his salvation.

He licks his lips, his eyes glued to her mouth, and she knows that they wouldn't be just looking right now if it weren't for the curse.

"I _love you_," she whispers, hoping that he'll understand that he has become like a husband to her - that she_ wants_ him to be, in every sense of the word. "And I want you. All of you. But not yet. I am tired and I'm sure that you are as well, and we shouldn't rush this. But we can talk about that tomorrow, or whenever we want. Now we should just sleep and I think the only way we can manage that is if we stay together."

Rumplestiltskin nods, his disbelief still very much there, but it is slowly but surely mixing with joy and hope once more. He pulls her closer to him, brushing his lips against her forehead. Never Belle has felt as loved and cherished as in that very moment, with her True Love's arms both protectively and possessively around her.

"Come on then, off to bed with you," he says, releasing her and gently urging her off his lap. Belle beams at him, knowing that she has persuaded him at last.


	10. Part 10

Part 10

When she is convinced that Rumplestiltskin isn't going to flee from her bedroom right after she leaves it, Belle makes her way to the generous bathroom right next to her chamber.

Expecting Rumplestiltskin to change into something more comfortable for the night while she is doing the same thing, she closes the door behind her. The gorgeous, flawlessly white nightgown which he gave her soon after her arrival at the Dark Castle is laying just where she left it, as if it has been waiting there during the past few days in the hope that she would return and wear it once more.

Belle quickly goes through her usual routine, her excitement rising at the prospect of spending the night with Rumplestiltskin in her bed with each second that passes.

It's another reason why she'd rather be with him than any of the so-called princes and knights she was destined to marry. The notion of being in the bed of such men always filled her with a vague feeling of fear and uneasiness. There's none of that trepidation with Rumplestiltskin. He is the alleged monster, the supposed beast... and he'll respect her wishes just to sleep. More than that, she's convinced that when they'll actually _do_ something, he'll be careful and gentle in his passion, putting her comfort before anything else.

She returns to her chamber a few minutes later, ready for bed and expecting to find Rumplestiltskin in the same state. He turns out to be sitting exactly where she left him, looking as if he isn't persuaded yet at all that this is actually happening. It's the only one of his looks that she's really getting quite tired of.

Before she can ask him why he hasn't changed his clothes, his eyes go wider than ever before, his mouth actually falling open. Although flattered at his obvious approval of her appearance, Belle panics slightly, running her hands over the nightgown she just put on to make sure that it is indeed barely more revealing than the clothes she usually wears.

When her fingers brush against her long curls, she realizes why he is staring at her like this, as if he has barely seen her before and as if he can devour her by merely looking at her. Without thinking, she has removed the pins from her hair, allowing it to fall all the way down, almost to her waist. She does so every night, but he has never been there to see it.

Judging from the way he is drinking in the sight of her, causing the fluttering inside of her to increase only more, there won't be any night from now on at which he won't see her like this, becoming like a husband in this sense as well.

Belle steps towards him, not entirely sure what to do but knowing that the ten yards which separate them are ten too many. As soon as she is within reach, he locks his arms around her, pulling her closer until he can bury his face against her cotton-clad stomach.

Her eyebrows rise at the unfamiliar display of affection, but she is quick to twine her hands in his hair, stroking it lovingly as he clings to her like she is all he ever needs in his life.

Belle closes her eyes, vividly recalling that she had no idea that things would turn out so perfectly a mere day ago. So much has happened since then and she is beyond grateful to whatever force has led both of them to this moment, back into one another's life and heart.

Several minutes of enjoyable closeness pass, but he doesn't look any more inclined to let go off her than he was right after taking hold of her so tightly.

"Come to bed, Rumplestiltskin."

Much as she enjoys standing there with him pressed against her like this, they can't get any sleep or proper rest this way.

He lets go off her with obvious reluctance, but his earlier hesitancy to share a bed with her appears to have mostly disappeared.

Casting a look over her shoulder to make sure that he is really following her, Belle finds that he indeed remains right behind her when she steps towards the large bed in the middle of the room.

Only now that Rumplestiltskin is about to share it with her, she realizes just how ridiculously oversized the fourposter is. All those nights, she has lain alone in so much more space than she could ever possibly need. It's almost like she is meant to share it with him, and always has been. One day, she'll ask him whether he was thinking along the same lines when he gave it to her.

He falters when they are right in front of the bed. Hoping that he'll simply follow if she gives the right example, Belle pulls the blankets back and gets into the bed, moving over to the other side with as much gracefulness as she can. She usually stumbles right in, but with Rumplestiltskin's heavy gaze on her that isn't very appealing.

She pats invitingly on the empty part of the mattress at her side, not knowing any more words which she might use to encourage him to join her.

The gesture appears to suffice, for he slowly crosses the last distance to the bed. There is a wariness in his steps and unadulterated hope in his eyes, and her mood brightens when he lifts his knee onto the bed, having fully decided at last that he'll actually get in bed with her.

Only then he appears to notice that he is still in his leathers and silks. Before Belle can propose for him to change in the same room as she just did, or before she can avert her gaze, there is a whisper of magic and a cloud of purple smoke. When the haze disappears, Rumplestiltskin is exactly where he was a moment ago, his familiar breeches and shirt replaced by nightclothes, the black silk covering him from neck to toe.

It's odd to see him in anything but his regular clothing, but not unpleasantly so in the slightest. Belle doesn't have the chance to consider it though, to _admire_ him, for he slides between the blankets quickly once he is suitably dressed at last.

Despite all the enthusiasm he earlier displayed, Rumplestiltskin remains laying on the edge of the bed, leaving plenty of space between them. Although they are indeed technically sharing a bed now, this isn't exactly what she had in mind when she suggested to remain together at night.

Timidly, she scoots back to him, not sure how to proceed in order to achieve what she has in mind. In all honesty, she isn't even entirely certain what she actually wants, only knowing that she longs to be as close to him as she can be.

Rumplestiltskin watches her with dark, heavy eyes, not moving to close the distance between them, but neither making any effort to stop her.

She halts when she is within touching distance, not allowing herself to think how silly they must look, all but perched on the edge of the large bed, leaving the majority of all available space unoccupied.

That's not the only thing which seems ridiculous to her. For all her desire to be near to him at night, to sleep with his arms around her, this turns out to be easier said than done. Now that she is in front of him, laying on her side to face him as he rests on his side as well. His head is propped up on his arm and his eyes are never leaving her, and her total lack of practical knowledge prevents her from taking the last measures required to reach her goal.

She presumed that Rumplestiltskin would know what to do, since he hinted that he has been married at one point of his life. Belle doesn't know anything about his marriage except for that he lost his wife, but he told her that they had a son together. Surely he remembers at least some of the experiences he had back then... certainly he still knows to some extent how a man and a woman can be comfortable in bed together, even if they don't do anything together which might result in the eventual birth of a child?

"Do you have any... preferences?" Belle asks, not able to think of a better way to prompt him into action, to persuade him at least to give her instructions of sorts.

All he does is shake his head, that sad expression which she only knows too well by now returning to his face.

"This is... new to me. The woman I was married to was never keen on sharing her bed with me. I usually slept in another room."

Belle hardly believes what she is hearing. It's not his apparent lack of experience in such situations, but the things he mentions of his wife which shock her. She doesn't know what Rumplestiltskin was like when he was married - whether he already was the man he is today - but it is simply dreadful to hear that his wife avoided him the way she seemingly did... and that he can't actually bring himself to refer to the woman as his wife. It's becoming increasingly clear to Belle why he is so very reluctant to believe that anyone might genuinely care for him... why he keeps wondering how anyone can _love_ him.

"Then we'll just have to find out about this together."

She gives him a careful smile, hoping that he can see the bright side of the situation as well. Neither of them really knows what they are doing and they aren't capable of instructing one another, but it doesn't seem to be such a bad thing to her any longer that they'll simply have to find their own way.

Belle supposes that there perhaps isn't even a 'right' and a 'wrong' when it comes to such matters. And if there is, she might not necessarily agree with the classifications. More than ever before, she is skeptical of the supposed difference between 'good' and 'bad', finding that such distinctions can't be made in matters of the heart.

After all, her relationship with Rumplestiltskin would be frowned upon and disapproved of by anyone and anything. Yet she has never been happier than while living with him... when his arms are around her and her lips are against his cheek, or any other part of him which she might reach.

He nods in approval, much to her relief. By now certain that he agrees with this, she moves slightly closer to him, not discouraged when he tenses slightly the second her arm brushes his.

Both of them are lying on their back at this point and although she has no knowledge of these matters, she can tell that she won't get the nearness she craves this way. Belle experimentally moves to her side again, smiling when she can look properly upon her True Love, his features almost uncharacteristically soft in the candlelight.

The thought that she would gladly look at him like this all night gives her an idea. Heedful of his dark and still slightly nervous eyes, Belle slowly moves closer to him, until her front is resting lightly against his side. Gesturing at him to lift his head, a request he fulfills without reluctance, she places a thick pillow beneath it. When he lays down again, he is just as comfortably as he was before, but his face is angled towards her.

When she makes herself comfortable at his side, she is still able to see most of his face whenever she looks up, allowing both of them to easily make sure that this is truly happening in case such an urge may arise throughout the night. Belle has no doubt that it will.

His arm is at his side, preventing her from snuggling against him as much as she'd like. Rumplestiltskin moves it out of the way before she can encourage him herself to do so. His arm hovers close to her for a moment, before he settles it ever so lightly on her waist with only some hesitance.

She beams at him at the increased contact, feeling immediately more comfortable than she already did. The barrier between them no longer there, Belle moves closer to him, until her front is pressed pleasantly against his side. It causes him to tense, just for a moment. But soon enough, he is smiling back at her, slightly increasing his hold on her waist.

"Good night, Rumplestiltskin," she whispers, delighted to be able to say this to him in such a manner.

"Good night, Belle."

His tone makes very clear that he has longed for this just as much as she has.


	11. Part 11

Part 11

Belle has never shared a bed with anyone in one way or another. She imagined that it would be quite awkward to do so, if only for the novelty of having someone so close to her throughout the night. She presumed that another person's nearness – a _man's _nearness – would make her too restless to lay still throughout the night, let alone actually sleep.

But before a minute has passed, she can tell that there'll be nothing easier than lying calmly at Rumplestiltskin's side. His physical closeness causes more sensations and emotions than she can possibly process all at once, but none of the kind she anticipated whenever she imagined a moment of this kind.

No matter how tired she was before going to bed and no matter how peaceful the situation turns out to be, Belle finds herself incapable of falling sleep now that she finally has the chance to do so. She doesn't know whether it's due to the particularly eventful day she has had or because of the fact that her True Love is truly hers once more, but she is as awake as she's ever been.

She isn't bothered by it at all. In fact, with Rumplestiltskin so very close to her for the very first time, she is more pleased than anything else by her wakefulness. All of this is so wonderful and _new _that she can't help but yearn to experience more of it.

She supposes that they have all the time in the world from now on and she is very much aware that they have already more than enough exploring of one another for a single day, but Belle is admittedly still quite impatient to get to know him a little better in this whole new way.

Rumplestiltskin's eyes are closed, but his breath is too shallow and irregular for him to be sleeping. She smiles a little at the discovery that he appears to be quite keen to be awake for the time being as well.

Her hand is resting somewhat uncomfortably at her side, which makes it only easier for her to decide to get yet closer to Rumplestiltskin. She isn't sure whether this is a good idea however, whether her touch is welcome at this moment. She has no clue whether he appreciates her reaching out for him the way she plans to and, more than that, she isn't quite certain how to achieve more nearness to begin with.

But they have come so far already, have made such progress within the course of just half a day. They have become closer in every sense of the word, have started to truly get to know each other in every way possible, and this won't be an exception.

She gingerly places her hand on his chest, not deterred when he tenses once more. It pains her to learn that Rumplestiltskin has become so unaccustomed to touches - or possibly has always been, which is something which she can't bring herself to consider just yet - and she is determined to make an end to that.

She smiles when he relaxes after a few seconds, a slight quickening of his breath the only remaining indication that he's aware of what she's doing.

Then it's Belle's turn to hesitate. Much as she'd like to touch him, just slightly more carefully and innocently than they have done so far, she doesn't really know what exactly she's doing. The mere sensation of his silk nightshirt beneath her palm, his hard chest right underneath it, is unlike anything she has ever known.

It was both strange and exhilaration to touch him like this just a few hours ago, in the main hall next to the blazing fire. But in her room, in _bed_, it's much more so. It's as real as it was before, as delightful, but with an increased sense of intimacy that even her bold touches didn't bring before.

Belle has never shied away from an adventure, and the mystery of the man at her side is probably the best one she'll ever know. Now that the trust and understanding has increased to a level that would have seemed impossible until a day ago, she isn't going to shy away from him in any way anymore.

Belle moves her hand experimentally, letting it find its way upwards, purposefully moving her fingers over his nightshirt as lightly as she can. Only when he makes a soft noise of the same kind as they did when touching in the kitchen and main hall, it dawns on her that she's all but caressing his chest.

The smile on her face turning rather wicked, she does it again, purposefully applying a little more pressure. She is mindful of the way this escalated before, but she supposes that it's different now that she isn't actually touching his skin.

The resulting sound which she draws from him has her questioning that assumption. Apparently, he likes being touched by her like this almost just as much as when there is no fabric to separate their skin... as if he savors each kind of touch from her with the same intensity.

She makes a mental note of this discovery, more than intend on exploring this in more detail in the near future. For now, she doesn't want to get both of them all... excited for the third time in mere hours. With some reluctance, she discontinues her exploration of him.

Instead, her hand comes to rest above his heart, its beat firm and rapid. Awed, she happily lets her palm lie right there. Rumplestiltskin covers it with his own free hand, wordlessly encouraging her to let her stay just like that.

Becoming already more familiar with his body and the way hers fits against it, Belle figures out yet another way to decrease the remaining distance between them. Shifting lightly and hushing him as he all but whimpers in protest at the sudden distance between them, she curves her body more firmly against him and moves her head between the crook of his shoulder and his neck.

His by now increasingly familiar scent envelops her again. Her nose directly against his skin, she closes her eyes and breathes in deeply, sighing with appreciation at the smell of leather and parchment and straw, and all those other things which are part of his life... of _their _life. She smiles against his neck, knowing that she'll wake up with this – _live _with this – for the rest of her life.

Belle remains lying still after that, perfectly comfortable and at ease, a peacefulness which she never quite knew before settling over her. She still isn't all that tired yet, for which she is only more grateful now that just being together like this is turning out to be more intriguing than any book she can recall.

Especially when his breath becomes deeper and more regular, the beat of his heart slowing down a little as well, she is more than happy just to be there with him, to experience the changes of his body.

Her smile against the skin of his neck broadens at the knowledge that he is falling asleep. Whether he intended to or not, it means a lot to her that he lets her see him like this, as vulnerable and defenseless as he can be. The fact that he finds sleep so easily poses the question just how much – or rather, how little – he has rested since she left, but she is soothed by the expectation that Rumplestiltskin will spend much more time in bed than he used to now that she has returned.

He mutters in his sleep, some words unintelligible but others clearly her name, expressing the love he feels for her. Belle already knows for certain at this point that their love is mutual, but it strengthens her heart nonetheless to hear him like this, subconsciously repeating his promises of love and affection while he is completely unguarded.

His words become louder, almost pained, confirming that he wasn't exaggerating in the slightest when he told her just how much he missed her, that he would be lost without her... wouldn't be able to live.

She understands now why he hasn't slept since she left him. If he's like this while she is right next to him, she can barely bring herself to imagine what it would be like if he were to think that they would never have this... that they would never have seen each other again.

There are other things though, so many other things to haunt him as he drifts into her sleep, becoming only more restless as he does so. There are other names, so many of them, names of people and places and things she doesn't understand.

He mutters in his sleep and probably would be tossing and turning quite violently if her embrace wouldn't prevent him from doing so.

She recalls that he worked throughout the night more often than not even when she just began working for him and they barely knew one another, when she wasn't featured in his nightmares yet.

Belle wonders whether it has always have been like this for him. She can only hope that it hasn't, but even if that were to be the case, he might as well not remember it.

She doesn't dare imagine what else plagues him at night, when he succumbs to the darkness of sleep at last. She might not know the nightmares of the Dark One, but he doesn't have to face them alone any longer.

She caresses his side, lightly enough not to wake him and firmly enough to ensure that a subconscious part of him becomes aware of her touch. Rumplestiltskin whimpers in response, tightening his hold on her. His fingers are splayed over the small of her back, seemingly wanting to touch as much of her as he can to reassure himself also in his current state that she is actually with him.

Belle mutters words of support and encouragement, relieved when he calms down almost immediately, the movements of his lips and body alike mostly ceasing. She closes her own eyes again as he drifts into a more quiet and peaceful sleep, awaiting the moment that sleep overtakes her as well and marveling at the bright future ahead of her in the mean time.

It's nothing but a certainty to her that not all nights will end like this. There will be a time that his past and future doesn't haunt him every moment, either awake or asleep. She'll be there with every step and when the time is right, they won't be holding onto one another to silence his nightmares.

With Rumplestiltskin sleeping soundlessly at her side, his hand never leaving her waist, it's only too easy to think of other things that they might do in this very bed, things that couldn't differ more from fear and discomfort.

Due to the wicked wanderings of her mind as she dares to imagine what else the two of them could do in the very bed they are currently resting in, Belle assumes at first that his hand is only moving in her fantasy. Yet, there is nothing imaginary about the way he shifts against her and his actual fingers dig into her hip.

He turns on his side, his face coming so closely to hers that their noses are almost brushing. Before they do, before she can wonder what might happen if their lips were to touch accidentally, he rolls her over with a strength she always presumed he had but never experienced at his hands before. She ends up on her stomach, with him half on top of her.

Belle tenses at the unexpectedness of it all. She trusts him more than anything or anyone else and she doesn't fear his intimate touch in the slightest. If anything, she is looking forward to it very much indeed.

But this isn't what she envisaged when she allowed herself to wonder just a minute ago, and they agreed that tonight was too early to do anything but rest together. Of course, he actually warned her for something exactly like this. She may not have thought him capable of going too far accidentally, when the control he holds over himself wanes in his sleep, but Belle isn't entirely certain of this any longer.

He is pushing against her, guiding her onto her other side and growling lowly as he does so. He pulls her flush against him, his front pressed against her back from their toes to the crown of their heads. One of his arms comes to rest across her waist, like an iron band holding her tightly against his chest.

She is about to wake him, just in case this might lead to something they'll regret later, but he goes still again before she can do so.

He mutters her name with a contentedness that has her sighing with happiness and couldn't differ more from his earlier distress, just like the yet more pronounced sensation of his breath against her neck.

Belle relaxes again immediately, very pleased to notice that Rumplestiltskin remains peaceful. Throughout the following minutes, she becomes more at ease than she was at any point during the day... or at any day since the ogres made an end to her peaceful and pleasant childhood, years earlier than it should have been.

It's clear to her now that whatever inhibitions which prevented him from giving in to his desire for her through the day are somewhat lowered in his sleep. But Belle doesn't mind in the slightest. Everyone from her old life would be shocked at the very least if they were to see her like this, intimately held by a man who she isn't married to or even engaged with.

They probably wouldn't consider Rumplestiltskin to be a man at all, his reputation as gruesome as it is at least partly unjustified. But none of that matters for the night, not when there is nothing but happiness in her closeness to her True Love.

Indeed, Belle is in bed with the most feared man of all the lands, his entire body wrapped possessively around hers, and there's nowhere she'd rather be.

**The End**

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_Thanks very much for reading! I hope you enjoyed the story. I've got a few other Rumbelle fics coming up - keep an eye out for them ;)_


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